Face Fear: Are You Afraid of the Dark?
by Funnykido
Summary: Darkness isn't so scary when you're with the one you want. A series of romantic stories by Funnykido and Kerichi about HP couples and what happens...when the lights go out!
1. Charlie & Fleur Funnykido

Charlie and Fleur

Fleur let out a deep sigh as she walked up the walk towards the Burrow as she remembered how long it had been since Bill had owled her. She made a point to owl him _at least_ once a week, but he rarely owled back. Once a month if she was lucky. She felt like she never got to talk to him anymore, with him always in Egypt, or some other exotic place like that cracking curses and her in London. And it was putting a definite strain on the relationship. She liked him alright, but sometimes, when she was lonely like this and allowed herself to dwell on their relationship too much, she thought that she was rather more attracted to _him_, than his personality. And although she'd told him multiple times she loved him, and always signed her owls, _Love, Fleur_, she knew that he wasn't the one for her. He wasn't the one she wanted to spend her life with. Her mind drifted against her will, to another tall redheaded man, who also happened to be apart of the Weasley family. 

_Stop it! You cannot zink about 'im today, I forbid you! Today you will see Bill, 'ave fun, and leave 'ere convinced that you really do love 'him. _She told herself, as she walked gracefully up the steps and knocked one of her perfectly manicured hands on the door.

The door opened and- "Mrs. Weasley! 'ello," said Fleur as she was engulfed in one of Molly Weasley's infamous hugs. The year she had spent working as an ambassador for the English Ministry in London had served to somewhat diminish her heavy French accent, but nevertheless it was still very noticeable whenever she spoke 

"It's lovely to see you dear! Just lovely, I'm so excited! So happy you could come! Arthur's just figured out how to make some muggle object work, he's dying to show somebody," she said warmly, pulling back from the embrace so she could get a look at Fleur. "Something called the smallwave, no, tinywave? Oh I know! The microwave! He's out in the shed if you'd like to see it," she shouted over her shoulder as she bustled into the kitchen.

Fleur took off her cloak and hung it on the peg, then surveyed the now-familiar living room of the burrow. She saw Ginny walk out of the kitchen, struggling with two very big bowls.

"'ello Ginny, need some 'elp," she said in greeting as she took one of the bowls and followed Ginny into the dining room, setting the bowl down on the humongous table that filled the whole room and never failed to amaze her when she visited.

"Thanks," said Ginny throwing her a grateful look. Then seeming to remember who she was talking to, launched herself at Fleur and gave her a big hug, "You're here," she yelled happily.

After Bill and Fleur had started dating, right after she moved to London, she'd spent a lot of time at the Burrow. To her surprise, she'd discovered that the lanky, plain looking, carrot-headed girl she'd seen in Hogwarts the year of the Triwizard tournament had grown into a tall, beautiful woman, her hair now auburn.

_She certainly 'as filled out._ She remembered thinking.

And along with spending so much of her time there, inevitably came the friendship and loving that the Weasley's seemed to pour onto anybody who gave them half a chance. Growing up she'd usually only had her sister Gabrielle for company, her parents being out of town most of the time, and when she wasn't away at school they'd had a slew of different nanny's looking after them, always leaving before they could get close to any of them. It had been a lonely childhood, and so the love and compassion held in the small house sometimes overwhelmed Fleur, though she was always grateful for it. Much to her surprise, the more time she sent there, the closer she became to Ginny, and before she knew it, they had become close friends.

"You just noticed zat," Fleur teased.

"No, it just hit me," Ginny replied laughing.

Following Ginny out into the hall she questioned, "Where is Bill?"

Looking uncomfortable Ginny replied, "Er, he's um, not here."

"Is 'e late," she asked.

"Um, no," Ginny replied running a hand nervously through her hair. "Not exactly. . ."

"Zen where is 'he," Fleur questioned.

"He's um, sort of not coming," she said slowly.

"Why," Fleur asked, her deep blue eyes coming to life in a flash of anger. "'e did not inform me of zis!"

"He said he had some work to catch up on. . . I think," Ginny replied timidly.

"I see," said Fleur icily.

"I'm sorry Fleur, I know how much you were looking forward to see him."

"It's okay," Fleur sighed. "I will 'ave fun anyways," Fleur mustered a smile to reassure Ginny.

Giving her a wide smile, Ginny beckoned her into the living room, "George and Fred have been dying to see you, they've got a new trick they're testing though, so I'd be careful around them." Fleur laughed and said she would. "Oh, and Charlie's visiting from Romania." Fleur's heart started racing when she heard his name.

_You are going out wiz Bill. You are going out wiz Bill. _She repeated to herself over and over as she made her way into the room.

"Fleur! How-" George yelled, bounding up from the couch.

"Are you? I'm so happy to see you," Fred finished following behind his twin.

"'ello boys, 'ow are you," Fleur asked, swatting George's- or maybe it was Fred's, hand away when they tried to shake her hand. "I don't trust you," she teased.

"I am _very_ hurt, Fleur, heartbroken," George said in mock sorrow.

"I'm sure," Fleur replied. She lifted her eyes over Fred's shoulder and saw Charlie sitting on the couch, watching her. As she met his eyes she felt her heart begin to beat wildly, and her pulse quicken.

She watched him stand up, unfolding his lean form from his sitting position, _I shouldn't notice 'ow zose dragon hide trousers, zey 'ug ees body, but sacre bleu! _She thought, and walk over to her.Even with her highest heels on, he towered over her.

"Fleur," he said simply, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Charlie," she replied, trying desperately to resist the urge to throw her arms around him and press her body up against his.

If she had known, Fleur would have been very surprised, for Charlie's thoughts were along much of the same lines.

_How does he stay away for so long, _Charlie wondered about Bill. _If I was lucky enough to be going out with her, I'd never leave the bedroom, _he thought, a wicked smile coming over his face. He saw Fleur look a bit taken aback at his look, and unconsciously lick her lips, causing even more thoughts that he definitely _should not_ be thinking about his brother's girlfriend to run through his head.

Fleur reached up and lightly put her arms around his neck in a dainty hug, standing on tiptoe to do so, and causing her to lean heavily against his body for support, soliciting a very unwelcome reaction from his body. She pulled back, and in doing so, her body brushed against his, letting him get a _feel_ for what was under those robes of hers.

_Bloody hell, not now!_ He thought as his body started to react. _Must do something, think!_ It wouldn't do for Fleur, or _anybody_ to see what she was doing to him, so he did the only thing he could think of:

Welsh Green- Native to Wales, eats sheep, nests in high mountains-

_She just flipped her hair over her shoulder, crap this is not good. _

Ukranian Ironbelly- Lives in Ukraine, largest bre-

_She just- Did she just brush her hand against her lips? Does that mean something? What does it mean??_

Norwegian Ridgeback, Swedish Short-snout-

_Do not think about how long your brother's girlfriend's legs are, or how the shirt strains over her chest, damn!_

Hungarian Horntail, Peruvian Vipertooth, Romanian Longhord-

_Do not look at her lips. Don't- you fool, I said NOT to look at her lips! Abort, abort, look away!!_

Chinese Fierball, Hebridean Blacks, Antipodea Opaleye-

_Do not think about how much you want to run your hands over her- stop it man! You're not going to be able to resist if you keep doing this much longer!_

"Charlie, are you okay," Fleur asked, shooting him an apprehensive look, jolting him back to reality.

"Yes-" he squeaked. He cleared his throat, "Yes, I'm fine. Just peach." _Peachy? You dolt! Who says peachy, of all things? Except Mum that is._

She nodded slowly and gave him a small, uncertain smile, and Charlie tried his best to smile weakly back.

"I'll, erm, be right back, just going for a walk in the _cold," _he said hurriedly, backing out of the doorway, which led to him tripping over a book lying on the floor and sent him to the ground.

"Charlile," Fleur cried, rushing over to him. "'ere let me 'elp you." She put her hand on his arm and attempted to pull him up.

"No!" Charlie snatched his arm back hurriedly, ignoring the injured look in her eyes at his violent action. "I'm okay," he said in a gentler voice. "But thanks." And with that he got up and walked out the door, leaving Fleur standing alone shivering in the draft from the door.

Later, just before they sat down to dinner Fleur saw Charlie walk in, looking much more composed, despite his hair sticking up haphazardly and his face bright red from the wind. He sat down quietly at the other end of the table and avoided her eyes.

She found herself staring at him all through dinner, despite the warnings she gave herself.

_Somebody's going to see. Zey will figure it out. _She dragged her eyes down to her plate. _Figure what out? I do NOT feel anyzing for 'im zat isn't purely platonic. _Her eyes flickered over to him again, of their own will. Tired of fighting herself, she surrendered and allowed herself to look at him.

A few minutes later, as she was contemplating whether his eyes were hazel with a ring of gold along the outside, our brown with gold flecked throughout, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Fleur? Fleur! Hello," Ginny said impatiently, her eyes flickering over to where Fleur had been looking a moment ago, confusion in her eyes.

"Oh, sorry, yes," Fleur asked quickly, hoping to make Ginny forget about who she had just been staring at, putting two and two together and coming to a conclusion that would most likely not have pleasant consequences.

Ginny turned towards Fleur, studying her face, then said slowly, "I was just asking you to pass the mashed potatoes."

"Oh yes, of course!" Fleur passed the mashed potatoes.

"Zat was delicious Mrs. Weasley," Fleur complimented after dinner, while she was helping to clean the table.

"Thank you dear, I'm glad you liked it," Mrs. Weasley replied as she walked past, patting Fleur's cheek as she did so.

Fleur put the dishes by the sink and walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch beside Ginny.

"I'm bored, do you want to go for a walk," Ginny asked.

"Why not," Fleur said smiling. "I will go get ze cloaks."

"Anybody else want to come," Ginny asked, addressing the whole room.

"I will," volunteered Charlie jumping up from the couch. He made his way over to the cloak rack and grabbed his cloak, brushing against Fleur's arm as he did so. He suddenly became very aware of their close proximity.

"Hurry up, what's taking so long," Ginny yelled impatiently from by the door.

Fleur brushed past him without saying a word, and he grabbed his cloak and strode to the door.

The night air provided some much needed coldness to Charlie's body, and the stars and moon were bright overhead. The three walked in silence until they came to the crest of the hill just beyond the garden.

"Oh, I've just remembered, I was supposed to be meeting somebody tonight, I've gotta go," Ginny said apologetically, saying quick good-bye's and running down the path in the direction they had come.

"That was weird," stated Charlie.

"Yes, it was," said Fleur nervously, wondering if she should say something more, but not knowing what. A heavy silence fell over the pair as they walked along the path, each wanting to say something, but not daring to break the invisible barrier between them.

Several times Charlie opened his mouth, ready to say something, but closed his mouth at the last second and lost his nerve.

They'd been walking for close to half an hour, and were walking through a small patch of woods, with the large trees hanging over the path, their branches reaching down and brushing the ground. The holes in the leaves allowed a little light to filter through, leaving Charlie and Fleur in a faint semi-darkness. Suddenly the clouds moved over the moon, sending them into complete darkness.

"What 'appened," Fleur cried frantically. "Where are you?"

"Fleur, don't worry I'm right here," he said taking her hand. When their skin touched he felt the familiar fever flushing through his body, and he concentrated, or tried to, on the path ahead.

An owl hooted in the distance, and Fleur pressed her body flush against Charlie's, throwing her arms around him and burying her head in his chest.

Deciding he had to do something quick, before his body had time to solicit another unwelcome reaction, he teased, "Why Fleur, are you afraid of the dark?"

"So what if I am," she challenged, though it came out more like a whimper.

"Well if you were, I was thinking that we should maybe do something about it, to take your mind off it, to keep ourselves _occupied,_" he suggested, hoping she caught his hidden meaning, because he didn't think he had the guts to explain it plainly. Her gasp told him she had understood perfectly.

He felt her raise her head, and sensed in the darkness her gaze on him.

"What would you suggest," she asked.

"This."

And with that he lowered his lips toward hers, or where he thought they would be anyway. He found them after searching for a few seconds, and covered her mouth with his, sending electricity coursing through both their bodies.

Charlie broke away, panting heavily. "This is wrong."

"I do not care," said Fleur haughtily, "because it feels so right."

A/N: Ok, some thanks are in order, or credit, or w/e. First of all, thanks to Kerichi, for the 'I shouldn't notice 'ow zose dragon hide trousers, zey 'ug ees body, but sacre bleu!' line, which she told me I could use, and the part where Charlie is reciting Dragons in between thinking endearing comments about Fleur, which she gave, too. And then, she gave me six of the names of the dragons, and I got four of the other names and all the info I used about them from here: 

And also, thanks to all my reviewers! (who reviewed ch. 1)

So thanks to:

Dibby, khamsin, ThinkingOfaName, Jen Sue, The Gossip Queen, Miss Court A Doo, and RonandHerm4eva- Thanks so much for reviewing, I hope you liked this chap as much as the other ones!

Jenna1980- I feel honored that yours is the first Harry Potter story that I ever read. May I suggest some more to you? Remember Cedric Diggory has an LJ/ story, though theres only two chapters out cough cough (HINT CEDRIC!!), then Kerichi has some other really good stories (a D/g one, and one w/ Snape, that are really good if you are into that stuff), then eyeshadow5746 has a couple really good L/J ones, too!

OneDayFamous- Lol I love the warm, fuzzy feeling. Thanks for reviewing, I hope you liked this chap, too!

Alternativeluna- I love your name, Luna is way too misrepresented. She hardly ever gets talked about, go Luna! And yes, I was happy, : P lol.

Trixie-Chan- I love one shot pieces, too, especially fluffly ones. I hope you like all the other chapters that are coming your way for this story!

Remember Cedric Diggory: My bestest Cedric friend, I must beg of you **TO UPDATE YOUR LJ FIC SOON BEFORE IM FORCED TO COME AND HOLD A CHAINSAW OVER YOUR HEAD!!!!**

MoonyHPgirl- Thanks so much! If you read any of my other stories, tell me if you like 'em!


	2. Lily & James Kerichi

Are you afraid of the dark?

Lily and James

The corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were deserted. All the students were currently packed into their respective Common Rooms. It was Saturday night on a Hogsmeade Weekend. House parties were in full swing. Within the Gryffindor Tower, a seventh year tried unsuccessfully to smooth down his unruly black hair while leaning with studied casualness against a wall. Bright blue eyes in a lean, handsome face gleamed with satisfaction. Meeting emerald green orbs across the room, James Potter smiled. The girl huffily tossed her red tresses and turned away. The boy's smile widened. She could deny it all she liked, but Lily Evans had definitely been checking him out.

Angry at herself for staring at the biggest prat in school just because his jumper matched his eyes and his lips curved so appealingly, the redhead sitting on a sofa across the room ignored the tingling that the mere thought of James watching sent down her spine. Beside her, one of her roommates, Julia, noticed her shiver and asked,

"Are you cold? The fire's roaring."

Lily shook her head, and then wished she hadn't. Immediately, the petite blond gasped,

"Ooohhh…it's _that_ kind of shiver, is it? Did you finally wake up and smell the pheromones between you and Potter? He's standing all alone, waiting for you…go get him Tiger."

The taller girl growled,

"You shouldn't drink that punch Black concocted. It's sent you into alcohol psychosis. Just because that…arrogant prat…is Head Boy and I'm Head Girl, that doesn't mean that we're going to fall for each other so don't even…"

She lost her train of thought when she made the mistake of glancing toward the sexiest arrogant prat on the planet. Her fingers twitched to sink into that hair…no they didn't…they wanted to slap that insufferable, kissable mouth…**no**…that smirk that drove her wild…erm…spare.

"Don't even try to fight it, mate…it's bigger than the both of you…just accept your destiny and go snog his brains out."

Blushing furiously at the mental image those words engendered, Lily snapped,

"For someone who can't _remember Cedric Diggory_ whenever Remus Lupin strolls by, you sure are free with the romantic advice." 

Julia had the grace to look embarrassed,

"I know. I've been a hypocrite…but…I broke up with Cedric, so if Remus ever looks at me the way James looks at you…"

Green eyes sparkled,

"You'll snog his brains out?"

Listening to Lily laugh with her friend, the Gryffindor Chaser felt his body tighten. He wished she'd laugh with him that way. She always became angry whenever he tried to talk to her, or impress her, or get her attention in any way he could think of from stupid to the spectacular.

"That girl's been eyeing you all night, mate. When are you going to grab the bull by the ballocks and go get her?"

Curling his lip over his friend's crude analogy, James shrugged. Sirius rolled the dark eyes every girl in school sighed over- according to him- and declared,

"Jamie boy…that girl's _Lost That Lovin' Feelin'…_ We should help her get it back."

"Who's lost what?"

Black told Lupin his proposal. Remus' nodded agreeably and grinned,

"Remember we're harmonizing this time, Padfoot…Prongs and I aren't just your backup singers."

"What, you don't want to be a Supreme, Moony?" Affecting a falsetto, the rogue crooned,

"Baby, Baby, Where did our love go? Ouch!" Rubbing the arm that had received a jab from the brown-haired boy, Sirius shook back his long, black hair and snickered, "Let's not let Wormtail in on this…the little rat's tone deaf."

The friends agreed and Black sauntered over to pick up an Orpheus Orb and give it a spin. Familiar music spilled into the room, making Gryffindors smile in anticipation. Everyone wondered who Sirius and the others would serenade to the Righteous Brothers' classic tune.

Lily's stomach somersaulted while her pulse raced. She knew, by the intent look on Potter's face that he was coming over to _her._ Futilely wishing she'd worn jeans instead of a miniskirt, the girl tried to tug the material down to cover more of her thighs…but the motion just brought that searing blue gaze to the exposed skin. She crossed her legs. His eyes widened. Hers became panicked. Had she just flashed her panties? It was a relief to switch from humiliating herself to merely being embarrassed. Sirius, the gorgeous dog, stood in the middle with James and Remus on either side. Together, they sang,

**You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips. **

**And** **there's no tenderness like before in your fingertips.**

Black sank to his knees and crooned hilariously,

**You're trying hard not to show it,**

She blushed when James sang with Remus,

**Baby….**

All three leaned in and declared,

**But baby, baby I know it….**

Everyone in the Common Room sang along on the chorus, even Julia, the traitor, 

**You've lost that lovin' feelin',**

**Whoa, that lovin' feelin', **

**You've lost that lovin' feelin', **

**Now it's gone…gone…gone…whoooaaa…**

Although she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, Lily couldn't help but be flattered. When James acted out the lyrics, she almost melted,

**Baby, baby, I'd get down on my knees for you.**

She covered her eyes, but couldn't hide a smile when the incorrigible trio leaned in and then back in unison, encouraging the other housemates to do the same while singing,

**Bring back that lovin' feelin'**

'**Cause it's gone…gone…gone…**

**And I can't go on….whoooaaa…**

Her friend jumped up at the end of the song, pushing James toward her spot while smiling at her brown-eyed crush,

"Do you know what Sirius puts in that punch?"

Shyly, the boy offered to tell Julia the secret ingredients while they fetched a cup. Lily giggled at the 'Oh my gods, I'm actually chatting up _Remus!_' look the blonde threw back over her shoulder as the teen led her away. Next to her, way too close for comfort, Potter chuckled,

"Remus has been waiting for her to break up with that Hufflepuff since school started. Don't know what she ever saw in him; actually…that guy's the type to want his son to be Cedric Diggory Jr." When she smiled, he laughed, "Poor kid doesn't stand a chance with a name like that."

"What would you name _your_ son, Potter?"

James stared into the eyes that were greener than any emerald he'd ever seen. Her hair was so pretty. He'd love to run his fingers through it and use it to bring her mouth to his. Blinking, it finally registered that she'd asked a question. His eyes visually caressed the bright strands while smiling dreamily,

"Hair…I mean Harry…yeah…that's a solid name…he'd be his own person…" He grinned when her smile widened in delight,

"I've always liked that name too!"

Impishly, he suggested,

"Then you'll have to marry me so we can bring little Harry Potter into the world."

Face beet red, she stood and glared,

"I wouldn't marry an arrogant, self-centered prat like you if you were the last male on the planet, Potter."

He rose and faced her,

"Protesting too much, methinks…I've caught you looking, Evans…you want me." 

Closing the mouth that had dropped open incredulously, the fiery girl screeched,

"I want to slap that smirk off your face!"

He winked,

"You mean, _snog_ the smirk off."

They were drawing quite an audience, but James didn't care. Lily was beautiful when she was angry. Almost incoherent in rage, she sputtered,

"Oh…you…you…arrogant…egotistical…I could _kiss _you!" Immediately, the girl blanched and tried to backtrack, "I meant _kill you!_"

Tears sprang to her eyes when housemates laughed their nosy arses off. She pushed past them and ran out of the room, into the outer corridor. Remus grabbed his arm.

"Hold up, Prongs. Julia and I've been talking, and we think we know a good way to get you and Lily some time to talk…in private…"

Pacing the halls, the girl who prided herself on being a calm, rational person was freaking out.

"Oh my gods! I said _kiss_…He'll never let me live it down. I'll be haunted by that good-looking prat and his kissable lips for the rest of the year. Every day, those incredible blue eyes will look at me and taunt, 'You think I'm sexy, you want to kiss me'. I may as well go jump off the Astronomy Tower!"

"Uh, Lily?"

Whirling around, the redhead saw her friend and tried to act like she was cool with everything,

"Hey, Julia...what's up?"

Silvery grey eyes appraised her warily before the girl asked,

"Can I talk to you about Remus?"

Relieved, she nodded eagerly,

"Sure. What's happened? Did he ask you out?"

A soft, infatuated smile crossed her friend's features,

"Yes. There's a perfect place right over here…you go first…I'll just…shut and lock the door so you can have a nice chat." 

The second half of her roommate's speech was given from the other side of the linen cupboard door. It was a little room, full of shelves with…linens…on them, and seemed even smaller to Lily when her eyes met James'.

"What are you doing in here, and why did my friend lock me in with you?" 

Sitting on a blanket with his back against the wall, Potter smiled,

"They wanted me to have a chance to talk with you, and knew you'd never do it willingly." He looked down and then met her eyes, "I've been trying to get you to notice me for a long time, Lily." 

Sitting as far away from him as she could with her legs curled to the side, the girl tried to understand,

"You've acted like a prat…pulled all those pranks…just to get me to _notice_ you? Why didn't you just behave like a civilized human being?"

Sheepishly, James admitted,

"Not the pranks…those were for fun…but the prat part…yeah…" He smiled crookedly, "When I've tried to behave, you've ignored me or asked if I expected a medal for doing what comes naturally to decent people."

She felt horrible,

"_I'm_ the prat, James…I've tried not to like you for so long…I guess I got into a habit of always thinking the worst about you. I'm sorry."

He scooted closer,

"Want to kiss and make up?"

Slowly, she nodded. His heart jolted. Staring into her eyes while he leaned closer and closer to the mouth he'd wanted to kiss, and dreamt about kissing, James brushed her cheek with his lips and pulled back to smile,

"I heard you only kiss on the cheek first date, Evans."

Lily reached up and touched his cheek,

"Our first date was on the sofa. This is the second date."

She slid her hand around the base of his neck and pulled his head down to hers. The touch of his mouth produced a rush of feeling she'd never felt before. The gentle pressure made her heart and body ache in the sweetest way. His tongue traced her lips, making her smile. James' tongue slipped inside and glided against hers, making her clutch his adorably messy hair to keep him right where she wanted him. The magicked candle illuminating the space flickered, then sputtered out, plunging the cupboard into darkness. She didn't notice, lost in the embrace, but he did.

James hugged Lily tightly and tried not to panic. She asked,

"What's wrong…are you afraid of the dark?"

He whispered,

"No…of course not…I just don't care to be locked in cupboards, is all...not after I was six and our house elf Hinky took my dad's humorous 'Toss the little blighter in a cupboard if he misbehaves whilst we're out' literally and I spent what seemed like eons in a dark pantry, listening to Hinky punishing himself in the kitchen for being cruel to me." When she kissed his cheek and hugged him as hard as she could, he confessed, "The worst part was feeling like a coward. I didn't want Hinky to open the door after I'd heard him screaming. I was afraid to see what he'd done. My mum had to coax me for a half hour before I'd open my eyes."

"What had he done?"

A short burst of laughter escaped,

"Ironed his arm, grilled his hand, and cut off an earlobe."

He grinned in the dark, and she could hear it in his voice,

"I've never told anyone that before. Funny, it doesn't bother me to be in the dark…with you."

Her pulse sped up. She made a confession of her own, "James…" 

"Yes, Lily?"

"When you sang that song…I wanted to sing part of it to you."

His heart raced. He encouraged,

"Go on. Sing it now."

"I can't. I can't sing worth a damn. But I can say it…_I need your love_…"

He kissed her cheek, her eyelids,

"I need your love too, Lily."

Sweeping her silken hair aside, he kissed her neck all the way up to her ear, and then slowly worked his way down to her collarbone. She dragged his mouth up to meld with hers. The girl finally knew why people described kissing as exchanging hearts and souls through lips and tongues and breath. His hand was sliding up her inner thigh when the door opened. The boy held the girl against his chest to protect her eyes from the sudden bright light. Three friends waited for them to rise and step out into the corridor. Remus and Julia exchanged pleased looks. James noticed they were holding hands. Sirius barked with laughter.

"I suppose you weren't snogging, you were whispering into each other's mouths."

Lily smiled wickedly,

"No, we were kissing, and if you _don't mind_, we're going to find an alcove behind a statue somewhere and kiss some _more_…" 

James grinned while saying meekly, "Yes, Dear". She giggled and pulled him away from the others, slipping her hand into his. They heard the other couple second their intention to find a private spot, and Sirius called after them,

"Gary the Gorgeous has a great niche behind it, and Rupert the Red's alcove is comfy too... Avoid the statue of Daniel the Daft…smells like dirty socks behind that one…"

Behind the memorial to the giant Fezzick the Faithful, Lily smiled shyly,

"Legend says that lovers who kiss here are forever faithful. Are you bold enough to handle that, James?"

He bent his head and in answer exchanged his heart, and soul, and breath for hers.

A/N: Thanks to Remember Cedric Diggory for the Lily/James idea, and Funnykido for having the inspired idea of the house-elf locking little Jamie in the cupboard for being naughty and giving him a fear of the dark. Hope you two got a laugh out of me weaving you into the story in an extra bit of gratitude! Eternal gratitude to wonderful readers for letting me share my story with you! Kerichi


	3. George & Katie Funnykido

A/N: To clear things up a bit, the story will continue from where Fred/Angelina left off (or the morning after), but in George and Katie's pov.

George looked up lazily as the bell chimed in the front of the store. It had been a slow day so far, and his boredom was further magnified by the fact that Fred _still_ wasn't back from his "date" with Angelina in the wine cellar the night before. He'd gone over inventory _twice, _an accomplishment that happened once a month if they were lucky.

_Probably another snot-nosed little bugger out on his birthday shopping trip. _George thought. _Always thinking they're on top of the world, thinking they can order me around. What are they going to do with a Puking Pastille? Get out of time-out,_ the redhead scoffed.

The frequent visits of these snotty brats almost diminished the joy the two brothers got from providing the Hogwarts students with pranks and pretexes altogether. _Almost._

His eyes traveled over the Fever Fudge and Nosebleed Nougats, over the fake wands and extendable ears, and onto a short brown-haired kid holding the hand of a woman, obviously, due to the perfectly manicure hand.

_Katie always used to have her hands perfectly manicured, even after Quidditch games, they were always perfect, _he thought staring at the woman's fingers. _Wonder if she used some sort of charm, like one of those things you get from Witch Weekly and that rubbish. _Thinking this, George remembered how much of a girly-girl Katie used to be, which led to wondering wistfully if she had a boyfriend to admire those perfectly manicured nails of hers, like he always used to.

Shaking his head to clear it of the thoughts that would do him no good, _You rogered it up good mate. And she made it quite clear she hated your guts, so give up and get over it, _he chided himself. The normally jolly man frowned, feeling as a pang as he remembered the events that had led up to two years of stony silence between the two former lovebirds.

_It wasn't as if he hadn't tried to contact her. He'd sent her multitudes of owls, all sent back unopened the next day. And besides, it wasn't his fault he hadn't wanted- been able to go into the dark closet with her for a bit of Seven Minutes in Heaven, during that last house party in seventh year. Silly fool thought he was rejecting her and stormed off. Of course he'd only made it worse when he'd chased after her yelling, Oy! Katie mate, wait up!_

_The angry girl had turned angrily, 'Oh, mate, now is it? What, get tired of me? Find a better shag? I always knew you couldn't stick to one woman for long, silly of me to think I could be the one you wanted to stay with. Forever.'_

His eyes traveled up the slim hand, up the toned, tanned arms, and up to the pretty woman's face.

Dragging his eyes up to her head the first thing he looked at was the customer's hair. He'd always loved running his hands through Katie's, and though slow to admit it, he found himself silently comparing _hers_ to all the other witches he dated.

_That hair looks a bit familiar, same color as Katies. . _His eyes met the eyes of the witch in front of him and he felt his heart speed up as he recognized the owner of the dark obsidian pools staring back at him.

The man whose face was quickly becoming red to match his hair stared open-mouthed at the blast-from-the-past standing in front of him.

"Hello George," Katie said softly, a small smile tracing the edges of her lips. For a second, George thought he heard a note of sadness in her voice, but dismissed it to his active imagination hearing what it wanted to hear.

"K-Katie," George sputtered. "How did you know it was me?"

"I have my ways," she said wryly, her eyes traveling over his face, taking in the changes since she had last seen him.

Flushing under her roving gaze he tore his eyes off of her onto the kid next to her.

Seeing his gaze, she said, "My Nephew. Jeremy. I'm taking him out for his birthday for a day of fun with his 'Auntie'."

Regaining his composure, and with it his ability to tease no matter the situation, he grinned widely and said, "Auntie? My how time flies. But may I say, you look quite. . well. . for your age."

"_My age,"_ she said in mock anger. "May I remind you _dear_ Georgey," her smile grew as she used his old pet name. "That _you_ are the same age as _me_."

"Ouch! Kitty Kat you wounded me," he shot back, using her _own_ pet name.

"Auntie Kat! Can I go look at the toys now," Jeremy interrupted tugging on her hand.

"Yes Jeremy, go ahead," she said gently letting his hand go. Seeing the annoyed expression on George's face she apologized, "Lighten up _old man_. He doesn't mean it, he's too young to know."

"They. Are. Not. _Toys!_ They are pain-inducing prank-deducing _tools!_ You need to be _experienced_ to handle these, they could be dangerous!"

_Well this is easier than I thought,_ the witch thought. She'd managed to convince her sister that letting her nephew pull her along to _this_ store, owned by _this_ particular man, would have no effect on her at all. _And it doesn't, not at all._ She told herself, not believing it even as it ran through her head.

Putting a hand on his arm, and smiling inwardly as he visibly became flustered and his face flushed again, instantly stopping his rant.

Cursing his painfully obvious Weasley genes George sought to change the subject. Noting that she seemed to have gotten over their argument, he contemplated the idea that had been fluttering furiously through his mind since she had stepped through the door.

Deciding to go for it, he turned to Katie and said quickly, his words tumbling over each other in a hurry to get out, "Wouldyoubeinterestedinhavingdinnerwithmetonight?"

"Excuse me?"

Staring fixedly at the floor he muttered, "Do you wanna go out to dinner with me? Tonight? Just to catch up with things? You know, not a date. . . or anything. Unless you want it to be! I mean, not that I want it to be. . or. . anything, but. . oy! You know what? Katie would you accompany me to dinner tonight?"

A tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks, but she gained her calm back quickly and said, "Like a date," she laughed. "I can't," George's face fell. "Tonight. But I'll tell you what. How about you and Fred come over to my and Angelina's flat tomorrow night? I'll make dinner."

His facial expression changing in a blur from frowning to smiling, he quickly accepted.

"Turn that smile upside down," Katie muttered to herself, laughing quietly.

"What?"

"Oh nothing, some stupid muggle saying."

"Hello beautiful," Fred said coming up behind Angelina and putting his arms around her.

"Fred! We are here to discuss _more important matter's,_" she admonished disentangling herself from his embrace.

Cursing his girl's self control he sank onto the couch with a sigh.

"I told Katie to be ready at seven. Did you tell George to get there at six," Angelina questioned.

"Yes my little micro-manager, and you're sure this will work?"

"Absolutely. If I know her, she'll finish dinner first, then go get ready. Take a shower, all that pish posh. I'll tell her I'm going out to the store, and if she hears the doorbell to come answer."

"Won't she ask why you just didn't apparate?"

"I'll tell her I've left my wand at your place."

"I always knew you had an inner devil just waiting to be let out," Fred chuckled. "But I'm still lost, how will Katie coming to the door without her makeup on help them get together?"

"_Stupid boys,"_ Angelina muttered, shaking her head. "Katie works like clockwork. The first thing she'll do is go and take a shower. If George gets there a few minutes after six, which he will, since he's always late, I'm willing to bet you my Gringott's vault she'll come to the door in her little _short_ terry robe."

"Oh really. And do you have one of these, too," Fred questioned, his voice unusually deep.

"Possibly," Angelina responded with a wicked smile.

"I'll have to see it one of these days, make sure it's _suitable._"

Sending him a pseudo-innocent smile she captured his mouth and engaged him in more _interesting_ things.

Smiling as she put the last dish into the oven, Katie set the timer, checked her watch, Five-Fifty, perfect, and hurried into the bathroom. Charming the water to the right temperature she stepped into the shower, sighing as the water hit her tired muscles.

Fifteen minutes later as she stepped out of the shower she heard the doorbell sound. _Must be Angelina,_ she thought as she grabbed her robe, the terry robe with the yellow rubber-duckies on it, that was maybe just a bit too short.

_Rubber duckie, you're the one,_

_You make bath time lots of fun,_

_Rubber Duckie, I'm awfully fond of you!_

The witch with her hair hanging in wet strands down her neck and back hummed with a silly grin on her face as she opened the door.

"Need any he-" the shocked witch muttered as her eyes met those of the blushing redhead in front of her. "George! What are you doing here," she shrieked.

"Fred told me to come now," George said softly, his eyes roving over the expanse of skin left uncovered by her robe. Feeling his blood heat up he tore his eyes off of her skin that just made him want to run his hands. . .

George coughed and said, "Erm, nice robe, by the way. Never knew you had a thing for ducks. Maybe it's from when you were a kid, that would explain the, uh, size."

Blushing furiously Katie stepped back quickly from the door, allowing George to pass through. Choosing not to respond to his comment she turned around and said over her shoulder, "I'm just going to, er, finish up. Make yourself at home."

Nodding George sat down heavily onto the couch, looking around the apartment. The next minute he was up, pacing quickly around the coffee table. Then into the kitchen, trying to figure out what they were eating in a vain attempt to keep his mind off of _naughty_ thoughts. Like Katie, in the shower, without clothes on.

The redhead wondered what soap she used. _Probably something with that moisturizing junk in it, to make her skin extra smooth._ _Damnit, man! Think un-attractive thoughts. Think Percy and Penelope shagging! Think Ron and Hermione shagging! Think. . . that's it, Mum and Dad shagging!_

Sighing as his blood returned to a normal temperature he gazed at the pictures on the walls. His eyes skimmed over the pictures of Angelina with her family, Katie with her nephew, Katie with her sister, Katie and. . . him. In the picture Katie and George were gazing into each other's eyes, obviously very happy. _I remember! That was right after the Yule Ball, when she dragged me outside and pushed me up against the wall and kissed me!_ A smile flittered across his face as he saw his hand drift lower and lower, until Katie slapped it away, deliberately placing it back onto her shoulder, shooting him a _'Not here! Everybody will see us! But later. . .' _look.

Hearing a throat being cleared behind him he turned and saw Katie standing there, consideringly more-clothed this time.

"Find anything interesting," she asked.

"Just the picture of us. You still have it," he stated.

"Yes, it's just nice to have. Reminds me of hap- um, simpler times."

"You were going to say happier," George accused, advancing on her with a predatory smile.

"I was not," the witch with the flaming cheeks insisted indignantly.

Stopping in front of her George said softly, "You want to know the reason I wouldn't go into that dark closet with you?"

"No need to, that was pretty clear," Katie said, the bitterness in her voice evident.

"I'm scared of the dark," George muttered, looking down at the ground, not noticing the astonished look on her face.

"You _are!_"

"_Yes._ That's why I couldn't go into that closet with you. I was too scared, and I was afraid you would find out."

"Not because you didn't want to. And I suppose you expect me to believe that I really was The One, right," she asked, the sarcasm dripping from her words. "That you changed for me, that you really wanted to be with me, _only_ me."

Taking her chin in his hand he tilted her face up, forcing her eyes to meet his. "But it's the truth! I really did! I tried to explain, but you wouldn't listen to me!"

Breaking away she said angrily, "Oh, so now it's my fault is it?"

"No," George said furiously backpedaling. "Not at all, I should have explained! Look Katie, I don't want to get into any fights. Ok? I came here tonight to explain that to you, and to tell you I still feel that way. You're still The One."

Shocked by both his sincere tone and his declaration, Katie sat down heavily, missing the couch by a few mere inches, and landing on the floor with a cry.

"Alright there," George said, his face appearing above hers as he held out a hand to help her up.

Grinning mischievously she took his hand, but instead of letting him help her up, pulled heavily on it, making him fall to the floor besides her, thanking the gods for what long hours of quidditch had done to her arm muscles.

Sitting down on his chest daintily she traced her finger lightly up his throat, smiling when he gulped, his Adam's Apple bobbing.

"Wench," he bit out.

Leaning down so her face was close to his, she stopped just above his lips and said, "You love me for it." The next second her lips were on his, making up for two years of wasted time.

Minutes later they were shocked out of their activities by the smell of smoke reaching their noses.

"The food," Katie shrieked jumping off of George and running into the kitchen. "It's ruined," George heard her say angrily from his place on the floor.

Getting up with a groan he walked into the kitchen. "Want me to order out?"

"Sure," she replied sadly.

"Don't worry Kitty-Kat, I'm sure it was great," he said soothingly wrapping his arms around her.

"Anything would taste great to you," she replied, a smile returning to her lips.

He made a face as he walked over to the fireplace and threw a pinch of floo powder in. "Are burger's okay?"

"Fine," she called back.

"Good-Burger," he stated clearly into the fire.

Immediately, the head of a brunette wearing a plastic burger attached to the brim of her hat, and a bun shaped badge with 'Keri' written in tomato red letters appeared. Snapping her gum, the girl rolled her eyes"Hey. Welcome to the Good Burger...Home of the Good Burger...Where it's all good...can I take your order"

A/N: Thanks to Kerichi for her awesome beta skills! Did ya like the tributes to you in there? were two, one obvious, one not-so.

Kerichi: You pushy witch! You can be very intimidating, you know that? Like a regular diva you are. But just for that, I'm putting a Monty Python song in the next chap! So ha! And for further suffering on your part, shall I just add in a Britney Spears? Mua ha ha. ..

Inari no Kitsune Heh, yes definitely! Fleur, I thought she was snotty, too, in GoF, but she's so much better this way! Plus. . Charlie is so much hotter than Bill anyways, lol!

Iamarobin: Thanks, I hope you like this chap, too!

Kagura no baka Yes, I'm more of a Draco type that a Charlie type, you know more athletic, slim, tall, starts drooling Sorry, lol! But I like Charlie, too! A little ruggedness and dragon hide pants goes a long way!


	4. Harry & Cho & Luna Kerichi

Disclaimer: Not Jo, just Kerichi, who hopes that your Valentine's Day is less stressful than Harry's, but that you get a kiss that's nothing like Cho's, and at least as good as Luna's:D

Face Fear: Are you afraid of the dark?

Harry and Cho, Harry and Luna

_Valentine's Day…_ The words didn't put a spring in Harry Potter's step, or a song in his heart. They twisted his stomach into knots. Somehow, he'd gone and asked Cho Chang to Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day. He hadn't meant to. It was just that she'd seemed to want to go, and he finally got the hint and asked, and now he was walking beside the Ravenclaw who he'd crushed on for so long. The village was filled with strolling couples, holding hands. Green eyes became panicked behind round glasses. Did she expect him to hold hers? He felt so awkward, reaching for her hand. The girl stopped abruptly and stared into a shop window. Harry brought his fingers up to smooth unruly black hair down. Had she noticed his lame attempt? Her sparkling black gaze was riveted by a display of dress robes. Thank Merlin, she hadn't. The girl was so pretty that he just wanted to stare at her. The Gryffindor fifth year knew he was lucky that of all the guys at Hogwarts, Cho wanted to be with him.

_Those ice blue dress robes would look amazing on me. _The sixth year Ravenclaw was so pleased that Harry seemed to be aware of how fortunate he was. She could've chosen to spend Valentine's Day with a dozen other boys. Instead, she honored the only one who'd been with her Cedric when… Tears shimmered. Bravely, she blinked them back. It wouldn't do to have a splotchy complexion. Turning to the teen silently admiring her beauty, Cho smiled mistily. They continued to stroll along the streets of Hogsmeade. Raindrops started flattening her hair. Her date seemed oblivious. She suggested they go grab a cup of coffee at Madam Puddifoot's.

_This place reminds me of Umbridge's office…hope the frilly stuff doesn't cover creepiness here..._ The bow and lace bedecked tea shop brought unhappy memories to mind. Harry warily eyed the golden cupids hovering over each tiny round table. He wasn't looking forward to having pink confetti tossed at him. They sat at a table in front of the shop window. Good thing it was fogged up by all the steaming teapots. Harry didn't want to be a bloody display for passerby to gawk at. The Ravenclaw Quiddich Captain was sitting close by with his date. The Gryffindor noticed Cho watching the other couple hold hands. She dragged her gaze away to order coffee from Madam Puddifoot. Silence lengthened awkwardly. The girl offered,

"Umbridge is awful, isn't she?"

Eagerly, he agreed, and they had a good time running the 'Inquisitor' down. After that conversational gambit was exhausted, they sat smiling at each other.

"Mmmm…" 

Roger Davies and his date had gone from holding hands to snogging. Harry tried to pretend that he didn't hear the…sounds… What if Cho wanted him to hold her hand and snog her? Their one kiss in the Room of Requirement was one that he didn't particularly want to re-enact. The Boy-Who-Lived tried not to remember, but it was no use…a scene flashed into mind…

"_Mistletoe…"_

_Yeah, it was…probably full of nargles too, whatever they were, and why in the blazes was he thinking and talking about Loony Luna when Cho Chang was moving nearer… She came so close he noticed that she had a few freckles sprinkled across her perfect nose. His brain wasn't working properly. He couldn't think, couldn't move, could only see the tears shimmering on her eyelashes and rolling down her cheeks. A panicked feeling made it hard to breathe. This wasn't the way he'd imagined a first kiss. _

_He'd dreamt about drowning in black pools, but not once had the boy envisioned swimming in tears that poured from puffy red eyes. The perfect nose had not so perfect drops of moisture…dripping…from it. Her lips were pretty, but they were trembling with sadness, not excitement. Cho's mouth touched his. The kiss wasn't very pleasant. It was…wet… The moisture transferred from her face to his made him shudder…and not in a good way. Bizarrely, a phrase from an old Muggle movie Uncle Vernon loved- Ghostbusters- popped into his head_

'_She slimed me'_

Impatiently waiting for Harry to snap out of the trance her loveliness had sent him into; Cho sighed and enviously watched Roger kiss that blonde who probably didn't even know that she was his second choice. He'd wanted to go with _her_, but the raven tressed beauty had picked Potter instead. What a bad move that was turning out to be. It was nice to be worshipped, but a little verbal appreciation would make all the soulful looks even better. Harry got a grip and then completely lost it by asking her along to go meet Granger of all people at the Broomsticks after their date. To show the boy that she too had other options; Cho told the Gryffindor that Roger had asked her out. He fumbled with the sugar bowl in surprise.

That surprise turned into callousness. All she'd done was mention that she'd been with Cedric there the year before. Couldn't Harry even spare a few moments to talk about the boy who had died at his feet…without even a word about her? Did he have to mention Quiddich? Who cared about the Tornados when she _needed_ to express how deeply her loss had affected her? Ask questions about how her love died? Potter could talk to _Granger_ about it, but not her? Tears of disillusionment and soul deep pain flowed. So choked up she could barely tell him off in front of an entire tea room full of avid listeners, the heartbroken girl made a dramatic exit with one, meaningful, sidelong glance at Roger before dashing out into the rain that poured like liquid sorrow.

Stunned by what had happened, Harry listened to the ironically joyful tinkling sound the door made upon closing after Chang, wondering why he'd even bothered to try his hand at romance. He was lousy at it. The boy didn't understand women. Why had Cho wanted to talk about sad things on a day that was supposed to be happy? And how could she cry so much…and why didn't she blow her nose?

Running through the cold, hard rain, he made it to the Broomsticks and chatted with Hagrid before Hermione waved him over to a table where she waited with that nosy reporter Rita Skeeter and…Luna Lovegood. The blonde was smiling dreamily at him. It made him feel bad for calling her loony. 'Mione had a great plan to have Rita get the 'real' story about You-Know-Who. Luna's father would publish it in The Quibbler. Skeeter wasn't thrilled with the idea of no pay, but a cold reminder by Granger that an unregistered Animagus got time in Azkaban made the woman get out her Quick-Quotes Quill in a hurry. 

After the interview, Luna kindly offered to share her umbrella shaped like a full moon on the walk back to Hogwarts. Hermione had more shopping to do, but Harry took the girl up on the offer. People were already going to think him barmy once that story came out after the 'important' one on Crumpled-Horn-Snorkacks. Why not go for broke and be seen with Loony Lovegood? Might as well get used to being called 'Potty'…

Inside the Entry, he looked down into the girl's serene face and thought that the Ravenclaw would be pretty if she didn't wear raw radishes for earrings. Not that cooked ones would be better, but that kind of quirkiness lessened attractiveness almost as much as mucus. Grimacing at the thought of Cho's nasal discharge, Harry was startled when Luna pulled him to a halt by the dungeon stairway and said,

"Would you do me a favor?"

Well, he did owe her one for the interview. Emerald eyes looked down curiously, "What?"

Pale pink lips curved,

"I'm trying to get over a fear of the dark. If I go into a dark dungeon, and nothing bad happens, I should be cured." Ruefully, she admitted, "I just don't want to go alone."

That was rather brave of her. He'd be happy to help, "Sure, I'll come along." The smile that lit porcelain features made light blue eyes sparkle. Harry had never seen Luna look so…animated. She looked less like an otherworldly creature and more like…a girl. A pretty girl with long, blonde hair and darker blonde thick, curling eyelashes… Uncomfortable with the realization that he'd been eyeing a fourth year who wore a life-sized lion's head as a hat, Potter said brusquely, "Let's go."

Dungeon 5 was currently unused. The moment the door closed, the cold chamber was plunged into darkness. Immediately, Luna began to babble,

"This isn't so bad. Yes, its pitch black, and I can't see anything, and something could be hiding in here, waiting for me to let my guard down so that it can come and I don't know what…but, really, I'm okay…" Several ragged breathes sounded. "Harry…I'm not okay…"

Unseen, his smile flashed, "Come here, Luna…I'll distract you." The teen meant that he'd talk to her, but the girl had a different idea,

"You will? Oh Harry!"

Soft lips pressed against his in a tentative kiss. Did the loony have radar of some kind? The paralyzed- I don't know what to do so I'm just going to stand here- feeling was back. His lack of response didn't faze Lovegood. Her mouth brushed back and forth and then melded to the boy's lips. Fingers slid into his hair, holding him in place while she kissed him gently, and then with more enthusiasm. By the time she traced his lips with the tip of her tongue, Harry's was returning the kiss. The pressure was sweet, not soggy. He felt good inside instead of thoroughly miserable. Slowly, he lifted his hands to stroke down long, silky hair. When he started rubbing circles on a slender back, Luna sighed. Suddenly, he was consumed with the urge to make her moan. Parting her lips wider, he started to glide his tongue along hers and…

The door to the dungeon flung open, spilling light inside and causing the young couple to spring apart.

"What is the meaning of this, Mr. Potter?"

The cold drawl couldn't disguise malicious glee. Narrowing his eyes against the light, and at the malevolent bat curling a lip, Harry said curtly,

"Nothing…Luna wanted to overcome her fear of the dark."

Black eyes glittered in the torchlight with something the boy had never seen before. Sallow fingers waved them out of the dungeon. Luna looked at him with large eyes and red, shiny lips. Harry's attention was diverted in the corridor by the unholy sight of a brief smile flickering across the Potions Master's ugly face. Dropping his voice, the professor repeated silkily,

"Fear of the dark? How interesting. Tell me, Ms. Lovegood, why did you not share this fear with when I asked you to retrieve a pickled specimen from that Dungeon last week?"

Throwing an entreating look at Harry, she replied,

"Uhm…it comes and goes?"

A slight sneer curled thin lips,

"How convenient…return to your houses at once."

Harry's face burned. That…that loony had tricked him! She'd lured him down to the dungeon on false pretences. The only thing she'd wanted was…him… Once they'd returned to the main corridor, the pink cheeked girl said in a small voice,

"Happy Valentine's Day, Harry."

He stared at the slender back moving toward Ravenclaw House. Incredulous, he called, "Aren't you going to say that you're sorry?" Stopping, Luna half turned and gave him a Mona Lisa smile. 

"No…because I'm not sorry." Waggling her fingers, the girl drifted off. Harry watched her go, feeling gobsmacked. Lips that had experienced what a kiss should be twitched. Ron called his name. He pivoted to see his best mate hurrying toward him. With a pat on the shoulder as they returned to Gryffindor House, the red-head sympathized,

"It's all over school, your…incident…with Cho in the tea shop. I'm sorry…"

A hand raised to trace his upturned lips, Harry replied musingly, "Don't be…I'm not." Grinning over Ron's confusion, the black-haired boy challenged his mate to a game of wizard's chess. He gave the password to The Fat Lady and reflected that this was the first time he'd said it with quite as much conviction,

"_Amor vincit omnia_"


	5. Dumbledore & McGonagall Funnykido

"Of course she's never made anybody turn hard before, except maybe Dumbledore."

And so the infamous words were said, while Ron snickered and Harry laughed at his own joke, an idea popped into Hermione's head. . .

"Mr. Weasley," Minerva McGonagall admonished sternly. "Is there something you would like to share with the class?"

The boy whose face was looking more and more like a bruised plum by the second was saved from having to answer by the appearance of a tall wizard with long white hair and half-moon spectacles.

"Minerva," he greeted, his voice resonating throughout the classroom.

Her head popped up, mayhap a little too quickly, for the Transfiguration professor saw Hermione studying her closely.

"Headmaster," the witch acknowledged stiffly.

The headmaster cast his gaze over the room and the class fell silent, going back to transfiguring their quills into rabbits.

"I've come for the report," he murmured, returning his gaze to her.

She picked up a stack of papers, black and white and sealed together with a charm, from her desk, which was spick and span with everything neatly categorized.

"Here it is, seventh years are at the top, with sixth years beneath who show an above-age level handle on the subject, with fifth years below who I believe we might want to keep an eye on."

"Thank you Min, your help is greatly appreciated," the older wizard said softly, looking deeply into her eyes.

The professor's heart sped up like a girl's when she heard him use her nickname, the name her parents had called her. Her parents, had been killed close to twenty years ago, in an attack by Muggle Terrorists. A fact she had revealed to him, she remembered, in a rare moment of weakness right after they had been killed.

_She sat by the lake, watching the giant squid thrash playfully through the water as the sun set behind the forbidden forest, free of the misery that suffocated her, that sat on her heart._

_Twenty or so years, or lack thereof, did much to her features. Her hair still ink-black, fell lightly around her shoulders, possessing a slight wave. Her face, filled out a bit, softened her sharp features, curving the line of her cheekbone and nose._

_"Lovely afternoon, isn't it? So peaceful, without the students. Although I must admit I miss them," said the wizard who's dark hair had just a few streaks of gray here and there._

_"If you don't mind Albus, I would like to be alone," the witch said thickly turning her face to hide the tears in her eyes and coursing down her face._

_"A wise man once told me, that grief is lightest when shared with others," the wizard said, ignoring her words and sitting lightly down beside her._

_"Such an interesting quote, but as I said, I would prefer solitude at the moment," the witch repeated, her voice rising._

_"No," came the soft utter from her side._

_"Excuse me," the witch sputtered indignantly._

_"A wise man once told me tha-"_

_"I don't want to know what a wise man once told you! I don't care! Can't you see that," the witch yelled, standing up, and with fresh tears running down her cheeks. "I just received an owl telling me that my parents were killed by a bloody terrorist, and you're spouting off some rubbish like a bloody fountain from a man that's most likely been dead since before I care to remember!"_

_Without a word she sat back down heavily onto the ground, sobbing into her hands. She felt the warm presence of a hand on her shoulder, and soon another as she was pulled into a strong embrace, being rocked back and forth like a child._

_The last thing she remembered was hearing soft soothing words in her ear, and a hand rubbing her back. She woke up the next morning safe in her own bed, and had never spoken to him about it since._

"I'm happy to help," she said, cursing the breathlessness apparent in her voice. "I suppose you'll be meeting with Professor Lorelei shortly to discuss the potions needed?"

"Yes, she should be notifying me shortly of an appropriate time."

"And tell me why you can't confer with Severus about this, again," she asked, thinking of the long hours he would have to spend with that woman in the lone, isolated. . . _dark_ dungeon. _Alone._

Realizing that her students were listening avidly to the conversation even while they appeared to concentrate on their transfigurations, Minerva waved Albus out of the classroom. Once in the corridor, she said in an undertone,"Tell me, exactly why you can't confer with the Potions Master instead of an Assistant Potions Professor with only seven years experience," she asked, thinking of the long hours he would have to spend with a young, attractive woman in the secluded, isolated. . . dark dungeon. Alone.

"Because Severus would not have time, with his other work for The Order," he explained patiently.

"I see. So you'll be spending lot's of time with _her, _alone, then, won't you."

"Possibly. I should think it isn't any of your concern though," he teased, his eyes alight and dancing.

"I was just curious," she explained. Now affecting a dignified air the tall woman said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to

teach."

Ignoring the headmaster's chuckle she swept back into the classroom.

Later, during dinner in the Great Hall, a redhead closely watched the entrance,

"Wonder where Hermione is," Ron wondered in the Great Hall that day.

"I saw her head off to the library after our last class, been there ever since, oh wait, there she is," Harry replied as he saw the brunette rushing into the great hall and over to the table.

"'Lo Herm-" Ron started, but stopped as Hermione interrupted him, rushing into a speech.

"I have a plan," the witch said excitedly.

Seeing the bewildered looks on the boys' faces she plowed on.

"To get Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall to profess their feelings for each other, _obviously._"

"Oh well of course, why didn't I think of that before," Harry said sarcastically, smacking his forehead with his hand.

Rolling her eyes Hermione replied, "Well obviously _you_ wouldn't have seen it. But to the careful observer," here Ron snorted indelicately into his mashed potatoes. "It's obvious. Every time Dumbledore comes into the room her eyes get bright, and during supper the other day, when their hands brushed, she actually blushed!"

"Well that's all great 'Mione, but how do you know Dumbledore feels the same way," Ron asked.

"I have my ways," Hermione said evasively.

"I don't like the sound of that," Harry muttered.

"Now are you in or not," Hermione asked looking expectantly at them.

Looking like a deer caught in Muggle headlights, the two boys shot each other a look before Harry stuttered, "Er, what. . would we have to, uh, do?"

"All you'd have to do is get McGonagall down to the dungeons."

"And what about Dumbledore," Ron cut in.

"I'll take care of that."

"Proffesor Lorelei," Hermione called, running down the hall towards the woman who looked more like a siren than an educator, and who she was sure shouldn't be _allowed_ to look so beautiful.

"Yes Hermione," the woman asked turning around.

"I, well, this is kind of . . . a strange request, but, erm . ." the girl trailed off, flustered.

Amused at the usually forthright girl's reluctance Lorelei asked, "This wouldn't have to do anything with a certain matchmaking scheme would it, by any chance?"

The shocked girl looked up from her hands. "How did you know?"

"House elves. They serve your food, listen to your conversations, and gossip like mad. "

"So you agree, with my reasoning," Hermione asked hopefully.

"Absolutely. All the staff does. There's been a secret pool on when those two give into their feelings for years. I'm the only one who's bet this month, so if I can help you and win the pool, well...just tell me how I can help." Smiling at the surprised expression, the professor said, "I know you have a plan. Boys are too...unsubtle for these kinds of things...but the female mind is more than up to the task. What can I do?"

Flushed with pleasure Hermione rapidly explained her plans.

"Professor McGonagall! Professor McGonagall," a third year exclaimed as she ran up to the imposing woman in the corridor, light brown braids loose and out of breath.

"Yes Leah?"

"Fight . . . in dungeons 5 . . . Draco Malfoy . . . and . . . Harry . . . Potter. Lorelei's room."

The professor was already running down the hall as fast as her sensible heels would allow.

Meanwhile, the Headmaster looked around the empty dungeon room. "Lorelei," he called.

"Ah, well, she said she might be late in her note," he said to himself, and sat down gracefully into a chair behind the desk. He popped a lemon drop, (of which he always had a supply of wherever he went, just in case), into his mouth and prepared to wait.

Hurrying down the hall, McGonagall was surprised not to hear any sounds of fighting.

_They must have cast a silencing charm._

She rounded the last corner and burst through the door.

"Stop this nons-" She stopped, looking around the room, seeing no signs of either boys, only a solitary man sitting behind the desk studying her.

"I can assure you I am up to no _nonsense_. Just what exactly were you expecting?"

Sighing exasperatedly to hide her flaming cheeks, she said primly, "A third year informed me that a fight was in progress in this classroom. Why are _you_ here, may I ask?"

"I am meeting with Professor Lorelei, though it appears she is absent."

"Obviously. Well then maybe I'll just, stay here. . . it seems my previous engagement has canceled, also," the witch said sitting down on the other side of the desk.

"I see," the wizard said, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of the enchanted torches on the wall. Dancing as the flames flickered- and went out.

A high-pitched scream echoed throughout the dungeon.

"My word, what was that," McGonagall exclaimed reaching toward the desk.

"It was- er, nothing," Dumbledore explained, his voice slightly higher than usual. "Must have been an, er, boggart! Scared of the dark!"

"Boggarts aren't scared of anything, Albus. And there's nothing else in here besides us."

"Oh," the headmaster said, feigning indifference, and affecting, and failing, a light laugh. "How interesting."

"Albus! I believe you're afraid of the dark," McGonagall exclaimed, the smile in her voice evident even in the dark.

"What," Dumbledore explained, his voice growing frantic. "I don't know what you're talking about! Why would you think that!"

"That was _you_ that shrieked. I thought it sounded a bit familiar."

"I-I don't know w-what you're talking about," he said, attempting a brave façade.

"How ironic. You're the only one in the world besides Harry that the Dark Lord fears, but yet you're afraid of the dark. I wonder what else you fear."

"Nothing," said Dumbledore.

Well, that was what he _meant _to say. Everybody within hearing distance, therefor, only the witch standing beside him, heard, "You."

In the shocked silence that followed, Dumbledore used his quick-thinking skills to come to a decision.

He debated briefly backtracking madly, but quickly dismissed it, as he knew it would never work on a person such as his Min. So the only other option, it seemed, was to plow forward.

"Let me rephrase that. I don't fear _you._ I fear Tom Riddle _finding out_ about you, of my," and here his voice lowered to an almost imperceptible volume, making McGonagall lean over the desk to hear. "of my, _feelings_, for you."

He heard a gasp, only a few inches from him, and felt the cold intake of breath on his face.

"So you-" McGonagall started.

"Yes," Dumbledore interrupted. "I understand, that you don't feel the same way. And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you, but I felt you had a right to know-"

Here he would have kept going all night, if it wasn't for the surprisingly soft and warm lips pressed against his.

"_Minerva,"_ Dumbledore said. "What a pleasant surprise. I never knew you had a thing for older men."

"Oh don't let it get to your head Albus, to be sure nothing _you've_ done has inspired these feelings of mine towards you. Besides, I had to shut you up."

With an almost wolfish grin, perceptible even in the dark, the surprisingly agile wizard made his way around the desk. Reaching out, he slid his hands up slender arms to cradle Min's face and position her mouth for a kiss that was years overdue

In the shadowy corridor outside the dungeon, a boy yelped,

"Ow! Bloody hell Harry, would you stop stepping on my feet?"

"Ron, quiet! We're almost there," Hermione admonished, hoping he couldn't see her face, for the blush there, because of the fact that her abrupt stop outside of the classroom had caused Ron to crash not-so-gracefully into her, effectively pinning her up against the wall with his body.

Coughing embarrassedly, Ron quickly moved away.

"Er- right. Well, we're here," the witch attempted in a bright manner, and turned her attention to the door, muttering a complicated locking spell.

"What was that for," Harry asked.

"To make sure they couldn't leave," Hermione said with an impish smile.

She opened the door slowly and peered through, Ron crowding behind her trying to see in.

A moment later they had both backed quickly out of the doorway, both their faces red, and a look of slight satisfaction mingling with disgusted looks alternating on their faces.

"What! What'd you see," Harry asked frantically.

Seeing that he would get no response from them he opened the door and looked for himself.

The sight that met his eyes made him gasp and run out of the doorway, forgetting all about being 'quiet as a mouse,' as Hermione had suggested earlier.

The trio heard muffled sounds inside the room, and soon the pair came out of the dungeons classroom, both trying to look unaffected. And except for the slightly askew position of Dumbledore's hat, and the slightly flushed cheeks of McGonagall, they succeeded.

"Hello Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said brightly.

The trio continued to stare in open horror at the pair.

The trio, who were alternating their gazes between Dumbledore and McGonagall, saw a strange look come over their transfiguration professor's face. The next moment she turned away towards the wall, but not far enough, because they still saw her delicately take a lemon drop out of her mouth.


	6. Hagrid & Maxime Kerichi

Disclaimer: Sometimes, a story you read captures your imagination so much, you pester the author to let you in on the fun. If they're a mate and they like the idea of sharing the work along with the madness, you might find yourself in a series of fortunate events that turns a one-shot into a succession of stories about Hogwarts couples and what happens when the lights go out. Funnykido, amiga, eres muy amable, which is just a Spanish way of saying thanks for being my writing tag-team partner and allowing my twisted imagination to form this chapter! Gracias! Kerichi

Are You Afraid Of The Dark?

Chapter 2- Hagrid and Maxime

Flouncing was hard to do when a woman was as _big-boned_ as Madam Maxime, but the Frenchwoman could not remain with Hagrid for another moment. She was too upset. He'd called her a _half-giant_, confided his sad parental history and invited her to do the same. The conversation had utterly ruined the Yule Ball for her. She'd been so pleased to dance with a man who made her feel feminine, delicate...even more pleased to go outside...and then...

"Assez! Enough of ze zinking of 'Agrid and 'ow vairy merveille every'zing was until 'E 'ad to go and put 'is big foot in ze mouth!"

"Madame Maxime?"

Turning with amazing quickness for a witch her size, the formidable lady saw the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour, standing on the path behind her with that 'Ogwarts boy, Roger some'zing. She tried to smile graciously, but the way the pair stepped back several paces said her expression was scary, not serene. Automatically, the woman started to speak French, "Moi je deconne..." Annoyed with herself, she changed to barbaric English and started again, "I'm talking nonsense...not to you...return to ze ballroom children..." She watched the pair nod and rush off. Large dark eyes noticed the Potions Master blasting apart rose bushes in the distance. A small smile transformed her striking, olive skinned face into something almost pretty. Fleur was too _French_ to be caught _snogging_, as these unmannered people called it. Frustrated at not being snogged, herself, Maxime stomped inside. As she passed, the water in the fountain beside the front entrance rippled with the vibrations of her large footsteps.

"_I say_...you're looking...er..._enormously lovely_ tonight, Madame...would you care to go someplace...uh...private to _talk?_" 

Propping up an expanse of wall, the Frenchwoman looked down at the professor who was currently trying to chat her up. Manny Hands, the Muggle Studies teacher, had that gleam in his eye that she'd seen before. She lowered her voice to a menacing rumble, "Faut pas rever! In your dreams, leetle man! I know your type, wiz ze liking for ze _big women_- pervert! Do not talk to me again, meester, or I will show you how good zese fingers are...at cracking nuts!"

The little piss ant's eyes almost bugged out of his head at her threatening speech- or perhaps it was the sight of her thick, opal bedecked fingers that scared him. Either way, the dog scurried off, tail between his legs, leaving her in peace. And alone...always alone, save for the company of those she did not wish to be with. Watching the dancers circling the floor, the students talking so happily with one another at the tables, Maxime felt wistful, and envious. She wanted a partner, too. With a sigh so deep it blew out the magicked lanterns at several nearby tables, the generously proportioned woman left the Hall. Without thought, her steps led her out of the castle and across the grounds to a Hut which had a candle, softly glowing in a window. Concealed by the shadowy darkness, she stopped and stared.

Hagrid was standing outside his home...washing off in a rain barrel. His awful, hairy suit discarded, the half-giant was stripped to the waist. Trickles of water ran down the mouth-watering expanse of firm, muscled flesh. Mon Dieu! She'd never imagined the man looked so...well...underneath those layers of shaggy clothing. It was hard to swallow, her mouth was completely dry. He bent to duck his head into the water, giving the watcher an excellent view of his arse in form-fitting trousers. My, my, my...she'd been a fool to walk away from such a fine... The man flung back his hair and shook it vigorously, shooting water droplets out in a range commensurate with his large frame. Several icy cold drops struck the woman, who gasped, making the man demand,

"Who's there?"

Hagrid scanned the pools of darkness surrounding his Hut. He'd been trying to get rid of that bloody Eu de Cologne he'd poured on earlier in the evening. The smell was just another reminder of how piss-poor he was with women. He'd thought that Madame Maxime and he had somethin' between them. Rubeus had tried to tell her how amazin' it was that they shared a similar hist'ry, could understand each other in a way no one else could. He'd hoped she'd tell him her story, so they could really get to know each other, and maybe even... The cold outside was barely felt- it was the frozen heart _inside _his body that made him shiver. Rejection always hurt, but tonight- Maxime's denial of him, and who she was fair sickened the gentle giant. A huge shadow moved forward, into the light. He gaped,

"Madame Maxime?"

Clothed in black silk that made his hands itch to smooth their way over the impressive hills and valleys, the Frenchwoman's lips curved,

"Please, call me Maxime...'Agrid."

An inner voice told him, 'Don' chust stan' there like a lummox, say somethin'!'. Wringing his hands in agitation, Hagrid asked hesitantly, "I don' rightly ha' any o' that coffee you Frenchies like to drink, but if you wait a bittie, I could go get some up at the castle..." Och, Aye, he was the greatest scunner that ever lived. Did he hafftae say 'you Frenchies'? He'd ram his great stupid head into the wall if she'd not think him more daft than ever. His heart leapt when the beauty said,

"Non...no, don't go...tea would be vairy nice."

Rubeus became aware of several things at once. He was wet, half naked, and the woman he'd been dreaming about actually wanted to come into his home and drink _tea_ with him. Surreptitiously, he pinched his leg. It hurt. This was real. Awkwardly opening the door and gesturing for Madame to precede him, Hagrid followed her into his home- every inch of exposed skin tingling at her proximity.

Looking around the large, yet compact space, Maxime's eyes lingered on the huge bed. The quilt looked very soft. Tearing her gaze away, she pointed to the fireplace, "Is zat where you do your cooking? Is eet vairy 'ard to do?"

Pulling out a massive chair from the table, the half-giant had to put some effort into pushing the seat back in once the woman had sat down. She was no fragile flower that was certain. Praise Merlin. Hanging his towel on a peg and quickly clothing himself in a soft white shirt 'Mione had given him for Christmas- that lass was puir talented when it came to transfigurin' things- he moved to put the kettle on. Waiting for the water to boil, he stated hopefully, "You comin' to see me...that means you're not mad at me no more?"

"Non, non, eef I 'ave given you zat impression, I am sorry. I am vairy sensitive about my size, and...I do not know who my true parents are...I was adopted...will you forgive me?"

The giant man's heart melted. Aw, the puir wee burd, not knowin' who be her folks. Not even Norbert his beloved dragon had affected his emotions so much. Overcome, he took a step forward and engulfed Maxime in a hug that lifted her out of the chair and off the floor. After a moment, her arms crept around his neck. Looking into her face, his gaze lowered to the lips that were parting, lifting...screeching,

" 'Agrid, ze candle...eet 'as burnt out! Pleeze, light ano'zer one!" 

Sheepishly, Rubeus admitted, "I be terrible sorry abou' this...but I don' have another one. I fergot to get some more...bein' distracted as I've bin lately." Noticing her frantic look, and the way her grip was slowly choking him, the man chuckled, "Yer not afeart o' the dark, are ye lass?"

Forcing herself to release what was quickly becoming a death grip, Maxime courageously took a step away from the safety of his arms. "Non! Eet is just zat...I do not care for it...French are valiant! Frenchwomen are not frightened of any'zing!" White teeth flashed. Tugging the beard that had felt so soft when it brushed her cheek, the smiling man moved to the hearth and grabbed the kettle, making tea for the two of them in large, sturdy mugs. He was polite enough not to point out how rapidly she'd sidled closer to the fire, or how her eyes darted apprehensively at every flickering shadow. Perhaps he enjoyed having her scoot her chair until it rubbed his. Or maybe he liked the way she pressed against his side as she stirred her tea with a unique teaspoon. It was golden, and the handle was in the shape of a dragon. Taking a sip of her 'tea', Maxime looked down in disbelief- it tasted like the finest French Roast!

"That be an enchanted spoon what makes everythin' a person stirs wit' it to their exact taste. Good, eh?"

Returning the smile that was starting to make gigantic butterflies swoop in her middle, the woman nodded so vigorously, her hair, coiled into a decorous knob at the back slipped from its pins and slid free. How embarrassing. Hagrid was staring at the inky sheet of long, black hair. He probably wondered why a mature woman would bother to keep such inconvenient locks. Long, slightly calloused fingers reached out and softly rubbed the hair between a thumb and forefinger. Reverently, he breathed,

"Blimey, it's beautiful...may I?"

She nodded faintly. It was so hard to take a deep breath. That must be why it was so hard to think. Lack of oxygen... In the firelight, _Rubeus_ gently stroked his fingers down her hair then brought it to his face. Brushing the ends across his lips in a way that made her breath even more ragged, he sniffed it and smiled,

"Smells right puirty...like flowers...you're like a flower, Maxime...but even puirtier."

Her common sense told her to say 'taratata', which in crude English translated to gobshite, but her French passion overcame her French practicality and the woman threw herself into the half-giant's arms instead, murmuring, "Oh, 'Agrid!"

Overwhelmed by the sensation of large, soft lips pressing against his, Rubeus did what any man enflamed with desire would do- he kissed her with everything he had. She didn't protest that he was too rough, or too large...she started speaking French. He didn't rightly know what all she was sayin', but Maxime's words sounded like music...and like an invitation. Gently tugging her up and over toward the big bed softly illuminated by the flickering flames, Hagrid took her up on it. They hugely enjoyed themselves, and felt an enormous surge of a love that was so great it connected two lonely souls who had nothing and everything in common.

A/N Imagine if you will, a really buff wrestling chick reaching through the ropes to tag her partner. That wouldn't be me, I'm more tennis than contact sports, but it gives you a mental image of the way Funnykido's going to jump into the ring next chapter with her story of another Hogwarts couple who'll face their fear of the dark...and each other...Muahahahaha!


	7. Lavender & Neville Funnykido

"Ooooh, Lavender, someone likes you," Parvati Patil screeched, hands fluttering uselessly in the air and cheeks red with excitement.

Heaving a sigh that she hoped nobody saw, the girl who's long eyelashes and wavy blonde hair got her the name of 'Prettiest Girl in Gryffindor,' by none other than Seamus Finniganplastered a fake smile on her face and turned around.

"What is it Parvati," She asked, noting the mock-inquisitiveness in her voice with satisfaction.

"Guess what I heard," she squealed.

"Let me guess. . . Pansy Parkinson jumped Colin Creevey in the charms classroom and they shagged like rabbits," she guessed, sarcasm dripping off her voice.

"Eww! No! I heard," here she stopped, throwing a conspiratory smile over to her twin sister Padma in Ravenclaw, who had Potions with the Gryffindors right after lunch. "That somebody likes you." She sat staring expectantly at Lavender.

Sighing, Lavender asked, not very enthusiastically, "Who?"

She immediately wished she hadn't. They burst into giggles, collapsing against each other. Lavender sat there, hands on her hips, waiting patiently.

While she waited, she chanced a discreet, covert glance over at a boy. A boy she'd been secretly noticing for the last few months.

Brown hair had grown out of it's mousy cut, hanging around the ears and making him look slightly like one of those 'Sk8ter Boi's' that Muggles were so obsessed with. And he'd grown into his features, they were sharper, not as girlish and round.

He'd done something with his teeth, too, probably one of those charms the nurse used on Granger a while back. They were less buck-tooth, smaller, straighter. Almost like the smile of that one Muggle Movie star she'd seen that one time. What had his name been again? Don Helton? Tom Telton? Oh! Tom Felton. _Now that guy, _she thought dreamily, _knows how to make bleached hair look good._

She was snapped out of her daze by the movement of the object she was staring at. He'd turned to look at her, and upon seeing her already doing the same thing, had thrown her a smile. She turned away flushing. And as she turned back to her potion, contemplated whether it was possible for somebody's smile to look so shy and innocent, but at the same time, _promising._ She shook her head, clearing away the crazy thought, and convinced herself it had been an innocent smile.

"Lavender, were you listening," whined Parvarti.

"Uh, no, sorry, what'd you say?"

"I told you who liked you," she said haughtily.

"Oh, who was it," she asked blandly, her mind not on the answer.

"Well, I don't know if I should-"

"Oh stop blabbering, I'll tell her! It's Neville," Padma interrupted, throwing Parvarti a smirk.

Pale cheeks flushed as the girl snuck another glance at 'The-Boy-She'd-Been-Noticing-For-A-While.'

"She's blushing," Parvarti squealed, pointing at her face.

"It's rude to point Parvarti," Lavender said, hoping to steer her away from the topic at hand. But she would not be deterred.

"You like him," she exclaimed, raising her hand to her mouth with a gasp.

"What? That's absurd," Lavender said frantically.

"Neville! Oh Neville, guess what," The-Girl-Who-Would-Soon-Be-Dead called, waving her hand in the air.

"Parvarti, stop! You don't know what you're talking about," the blushing girl said with surprising firmness.

Throwing her a smug smile, Parvarti flounced over to Neville, who was about to add the Mandrake root to his simmering potion.

Lavender groaned, dropping her head down onto her hands. She could just faintly make out what Parvarti was saying if she strained, almost- her head snapped up as she heard a small explosion in the cauldron off to her side.

Snape came bounding over, demanding who's cauldron it was.

"It's not mine! It's-"

"It's all her fault, Proffessor Snape," Lavender heard. Blinking, she turned to the sound of the voice, and saw Parvarti pointing an accusing finger directly at her.

"What," Lavender exclaimed, mouth dropping open, a feeling of dread beginning to make it's way into her stomach.

"Well, well, well," the gleeful git almost purred. "Detention then, I think, Ms. Brown. Tonight. At Eight. I have a few cauldrons I've been meaning to clean, that I haven't quite gotten around to." She opened her mouth to protest, but was interrupted by the sound of another small explosion, this time on the other side of the classroom.

Greasy hair flying, Snape's head snapped to the side, gazing for the culprit.

"Longbottom! Detention, eight. You'll be accompanying Ms. Brown," the professor with the obvious hygiene problems purred.

_That bloody prat! He heard! And now he's going to-to make us stay in bloody detention together!_ She wasn't sure whether she was horrified or- excited.

"Class dismissed," he said smoothly, and she quickly gather her things and hurried out the door. _Thank Merlin I don't have any classes with Parvarti the rest of the day, or she'd be little more than minced meat by the time I'd be done with her._

Walking down to the dungeons, Lavender reflected with satisfaction on the powder she'd managed to slip into Parvarti's drink during dinner.

_Not as effective as Dragon Sand, she won't burn from the insides like poor King Roland did- unfortunately- but she will have a nice bit of indigestion tonight._ She felt a bit like the evil sorcerer Flag at the glee in her heart and the spring in her step as she thought back to the revenge she had gotten on the girl.

She realized with a start that she was at the dungeons. Breaking out of her 'Evil glee' mode, she sighed heavily and opened the door.

She looked around the dungeon, noticing with a start that Neville was already there.

"Ms. Brown. You and Longbottom will stay here until all of these cauldrons," he waved his arm over to an enormous pile of the dirty things, "Are cleaned. _Without_ magic. I trust you will, _behave_, while I'm gone." And with that he swept out of the dungeon, leaving two blushing teenagers.

"Well, we'd better get started," Neville said awkwardly.

Still blushing, Lavender simply walked over to a cauldron and began to work.

They cleaned silently for close to an hour, both listening intently to the other. Both wondering how much the other knew.

"Lavender-"

"Yes," she squeaked.

"Er- um, nothing," he said, sighing dejectedly.

Feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment, she went back to the cauldron she was working on.

Still another hour later, Lavender looked up with a start and realized Neville standing right next to her. They'd started out at opposite ends of the pile, avoiding each other as much as possible. Telling herself she wasn't distracted by the smell of the soap he used, or that she didn't feel his robe brush against hers every time he moved his arm, she turned away.

She'd almost convinced herself, until he spoke.

"You've changed," he stated simply.

"Excuse me," she asked, bewildered, caught off guard by his sudden words.

"You aren't shallow anymore. No offense. You've changed. And you seem bothered by Parvarti now. Like you think she's silly or something. And you don't giggle anymore. Or at least- not as much. You're just. . . different," Neville said all in one breath, looking up shyly at her when he finished.

"How- how did you figure all that out," Lavender asked, too shocked to pretend everything he'd said hadn't been true.

The boy shrugged. "I've been, watching you." He blushed, looking away.

Much to her horror, Lavender felt the whole story slipping out. "It just- it started, I mean I started to change, after the department of mysteries. When they said that Voldemort was really back. My older brother's an auror, and he- I just got so scared, when I realized he'd have to go off and fight. It hit me, you know? And I realized- I realized that, it was so silly. All the gossip, all the backstabbing, all the trying to be the prettiest girl in school." She stopped, blushing furiously, and turned quickly back to her cauldron.

_Congratulations. You've just made a bloody fool out of yourself. Now he'll think you're a bloody sap._

Silence reigned over the dungeon for a few minutes. But suddenly he spoke.

"Well I'm glad that you changed."

Startled, she looked up. She saw complete seriousness in his eyes, no mocking, no laughter, like there would have been if she'd told this to Seamus or Dean.

"You- you are," she asked incredulously.

He opened his mouth to answer- just as the enchanted torch on the wall flickered- and went out.

Shrieking, Lavender flung her arms around his neck, forcing him to put his arms out around her, carrying her bride-style.

"Lavender-" he said, gasping for breath as he struggled to carry her and talk at the same time. Collapsing onto a chair in front of Snape's desk he continued. "Lavender, you aren't scared of the dark are you?"

"So what if I am," she challenged, lifting her head from his shoulder, and gazing in the direction of where she thought his eyes would be.

"Just wondering," he said nonchalantly.

They sat in silence for a few moments, then both stiffened, realizing at the same time that Lavender was still in his lap, and his hand was still on her knee, absently tracing small circles.

"Erm-" he started awkwardly.

"Listen Neville, what did Parvarti tell you, in potions," Lavender demanded, brushing aside the weirdness. Using her 'I'm not just a dumb blonde. I know you had that set of robes on sale last month, so don't try to fool me into paying full price' voice.

"She didn't, tell me anything, she was about to, but then the cauldron exploded."

"Oh."

"How much did Parvarti tell _you?_"

"Er- just that you- that you, uh," she stammered, then gave up.

"That I like you," Neville answered, surprising Lavender with his bluntness.

"Oh- um- yes."

"It's true, you know," Neville went on.

Lavender didn't say anything, just smiled to herself in the darkness.

"Is there, a chance, that you, might, you know- could you- like me back?"

Thinking to herself that his shyness was absolutely adorable, Lavender giggled softly- some habits die hard- and reached out with her hand, finding and grasping his chin, turning it towards her.

And just before their lips met, she muttered softly, "I already do."

A/N: Heh, anybodys stomachs curl at this one? Anybody gag? I hope not, I thought it was sweet! Lol, but that's just me. The reference to Dragon Sand and King Roland and Flag, comes from Steven King's book 'Eyes of the Dragon." And the 'I'm not just a dumb blonde. I know you had that set of robes on sale last month, so don't try to fool me into paying full price' comes from Legally Blonde. Anybody remember? When that clerk lady tries to get her to buy that dress, telling her it's from that one fashion designer, but it isn't right in the beginning? I forget all the details. . but it was my inspiration, lol.

Thanks to all reviewers, and Kerichi for her ideas on the plot!


	8. Trelawny & Smalley Funnykido

Professor Trelawny & Professor Smalley

A/N: The next installment in our series of horror. Mua ha ha. Now I am going to take a page out of Kerichi's book and shamelessly plug my other stories. GO READ THEM! And while I'm at it, go read Kerichi's, too. And why don't you make the world a better place and review? Oh by the way, Professor Smalley is a character from Kerichi's fic 'Simply Irresistable'. Fortunately, his ending is a little more happy in this fic than in hers!

"Aaah yes," the maiden garbed in fuschia velvet robes and large Chevy Chase-ish glasses said psuedo-wisely. "The yellow worm indicates your deep feelings for someone very close to you, and I mean _non-platonic_ feelings, as in towards the _opposite sex_." Saying this the professor who was currently channeling her inner Oompa-Loompa said, shooting a significant glance towards a certain teacher's pet with hair like a mulberry bush. She went on, "And the earmuff," she stopped momentarily to smother a smirk, "To the side indicates that your frequent squabbles with said person are just a way to relieve your, shall we say, _feelings_, of a certain _nature_, towards each other."

Patting the two poor blushing teenagers lightly on the heads as she walked off, whistling innocently 'Love Is in the Air' and looking for all the world as if she had retreated into her own cosmic world. As she made her ghostly way out of the great hall she stopped occasionally at the seat of a poor, unsuspecting student, pausing only long enough to say a quick, "Beware of the Twinkies, for they are destined to go straight to your thighs." Or in one case, upon seeing one poor brunette girl with a distinctly piggish nose falling prey to the charms of a boy who she personally thought looked more like an albino than a sex god, and who she had seen snogging a certain ruby-haired maiden just the night before she stopped. Sniffed the air and said, "I sense a disturbance in the air." And, turning to the couple said faintly, "He's cheating on you."

She left behind the scandalized gasp, and then a second later, the sound of a smart slap on a cheek, chuckling merrily, oblivious to the curious eyes of one Professor Smalley who was watching her with great interest.

Dropping her glasses as she stepped past the Runes classroom she bent down to retrieve them. As she bent down to retrieve them her hat fell off of her head and she stumbled forward. Muttering a few choice words under her breath she turned back to pick up the hat, straightened up, and came nose to nose with Professor Smalley.

"Sybil, I trust the day is treating you well," the first man Trelawnyhad talked to in a great while besides her students and Dumbledore, said.

Eyes already magnified by the large glasses grew owlish as she hurried to reply.

"I- er, yes, thank you. Have you checked your star chart lately," Venus and Saturn are aligned, Scorpio's should be careful around simmering cauldrons. Would you happen to be a Scorpio? Aquarius?" She was stammering she realized. But she found suddenly that she seemed to have inherited an inability to speak. Why the last time she had felt like this around a boy- 'Man,' she corrected herself mentally. 'Professor Smalley is most definitely a _man.'- _had been in fifth year. That time when she had finally gotten the chance to talk to that hunky Peter Pettigrew.

"I happen to be a Capricorn myself," the swarthy professor with the delectable mustache said.

"Stubborn and single-minded, but also romantic and tender," she recited quickly without thinking. Then mentally dashed herself on the head she a thought entered her head. 'Fool! Trelawny you stupid arse, he'll think you're flirting with him!'

'And who's to say you aren't?' She quickly shoved the misbehaving voice in her head down.

He smiled genially, than asked, "May I ask what your sign is?"

"Cancer."

"Ah, loyal, loving, and thrifty."

"You read horoscopes," she asked skeptically.

"I personally don't, but my younger sister insists on reading them to me every month from Witch Weekly." 'He has a sister! Wonder if she would like me. . . Stop! What have we talked about? DON'T THROW YOURSELF AT GUYS!'

"I see, how old is your sister," she managed to say calmly.

"20."

"Such a nice age, I loved being 20," Trelawny reminisced.

"Nice? It's hardly a nice age! I can hardly keep the boys off of her and you're telling me it's _nice!_"

The bell signaling the next class rang through the hall and Trelawny jolted back to reality.

"I must go, goodbye," she said, turning and taking a few quick steps in the other direction. But then she stopped, suddenly struck immobile.

Though her inner alarm bells were clanging furiously, she turned around and raised her eyes to the professor's.

"You wouldn't be interested in a crystal ball reading would you? I need an example for the sixth year class. I'm afraid they have gotten a bit tired of me."

"I would be delighted, when?"

Heart fluttering at his easy smile, she managed to say, "Tomorrow, if that's not too soon. Last class of the day."

"I'll be there," he promised.

A wide grin broke out on her face, and her eyes danced to a tune all their own. She stood, rooted to the spot smiling goofily at him.

And stood.

And stood.

Suddenly a student jostled past her, bringing her back to reality.

"Oh," she exclaimed.

"Goodbye, 'till tomorrow," she said over her shoulder as she hurried down the hall.

"'Till tomorrow," Professor Smalley murmured, a small smile on his face as he watched the witch progress down the hall.

* * *

The next day crawled by at the pace of a snail- literally, for some snot-nosed third year had hexed her, and for a full two hours she could move no faster than a snail. Thankfully, it wore off by the last class of the day.

Professor Trelawny sat demurely on a pillow in the front of the class, watching her class out of hooded lids. She moved only once to flick her wand quickly, sending a chair scooting out from underneath a misbehaving sixth year, sending him flat to his arse.

She looked up and saw Professor Smalley hurrying through the door. His dark hair was ruffled ever-so-adorably, and his robes were open, revealing muscular shoulders. And oh, how muscular they were. . . So what if she had a fetish with shoulders? It was perfectly normal!

"Sorry I'm late," he said breathlessly, my last class got out a bit late."

"Perfectly alright," she said. Then turning to class she said, "Class, we have a demonstration today, take your seats. Ah, Mr. Creevey watch out for that chair."

Paying no heed to her warnings, sure enough Colin Creevey's chair turned into a giant pin on contact and promptly pricked him on the arse.

Waiting for the gales of laughter to die down she invited Professor Smalley to sit down next to her, in front of the crystal ball. As he bent down to retrieve a pillow, she took the opportunity to _subtlety_ chance a quick look at his backside. So what if she happened to have a fetish with backsides, too? There was nothing wrong with a healthy interest!

He cleared his throat and her eyes snapped up in mortification, she'd _forgotten_ she had still been looking at his arse! Damn, subtlety had never been her strongpoint.

She widened her eyes in a look of innocence, daring him to say something, but his eyes only danced and a faint smirk traced his lips. She scowled and turned to the crystal ball.

She placed her hands on the crystal ball.

"Class, please pay attention! When looking into a crystal ball, one places their hands over the crystal ball, and the person who desires to find out what is it the ball places there hands on top of the ball as well. Remember, only the person who the ball is in possession of can see inside the ball. Turn to page 105 in your textbooks for more information."

She turned and murmured to Professor Smalley, "Place your hands on the crystal ball please."

He placed his hands over hers. _Directly_ over hers.

Her mind whirled. 'He didn't _have_ to put his hands on hers, there was plenty of other surface area on the crystal ball for his hands! His hands weren't _that _large.' She looked at his hands. They were. She stifled a sigh, grudgingly admitting her fetish over hands. 'So did it mean anything? Surely if he really hadn't wanted to touch her he could have found some way not to. So that's the only answer. He hadn't chose _not_ to touch her. What did that mean?'

Her eyes focused out, but was brought back to reality when the ball under her hands grew warm. Looking into it, she was suddenly glad that only theone in possessionof the ball could see inside of it.

_A woman with large eyes and frizzy hair, wearing midnight blue robes with small crescent moons on them stood next to a larger man. His large hands held her own, and she must have said something amusing, for he smiled. And when he smiled, it was like he was devouring her. Or at least promising. Then he bent down to kiss her._

"What do you see," he prompted, looking deeply into her eyes.

Flustered she remembered stuttering something out about a pink furry bunny rabbit and a field of daffodils before snatching her hands away and pretended that she hadn't just seen the two of them snogging in a bloody classroom. In the bloody _divination_ classroom. And she was wearing the Same. Bloody. Robes. As right now.

"Class dismissed," she said, rather higher pitched than usual.

She went around the classroom tidying it up and taking as much time as she could. When she turned around and found him still there she wasn't sure if she felt excited or scared.

"I thought I might help you clean up, since the rest of my day is painfully empty. And though the stack of papers that need grading in my chambers are very tempting, a lovely witch like you presents a bit more enjoyment. Is that alright?"

"Y-Yes, absolutely fine."

They spent a few quiet minutes, each working on the opposite side of the classroom, for which she was very grateful.

"Are you going to tell me what you _really_ saw in the crystal ball," his deep voice asked from behind a stack of pillows at the other end. Sticking her head out from behind her own stack of pillows she answered innocently, "You might contemplate getting your hearing checked. I'm certain I already told you what I saw."

He strode quickly across the classroom. She scurried away, mentally hitting herself for every step as she did so. But it was a hopeless battle. For every step she took back he took two forward, and eventually she knew she would hit the wall. She planted her feet and stood her ground, hoping he would back off. He didn't.

"You expect me to believe that? _Pink fuzzy bunnies and daffodil fields,_" he said incredulously.

"Er-" was all she managed. The next minute the candles in the wall flickered and went out, leaving the room in darkness. She hadn't realized that darkness had fallen over the castle, and she instinctively reached for his hand.

Generously ignoring said gesture- in words- forhis eyes mocked and asked the question that she could see clearly even in the dim light. _Are you afraid of the dark?_

"You didn't really need my help today did you," he asked softly, deterring her attention away from the lack of light pervading her senses at the moment.

"What are you suggesting," she answered, eyes narrowing dangerously as she stood up on her tiptoes to better look him in the eyes.

"This," she was faintly aware of him saying, rather smugly she thought. But she wasn't sure, because the thought fled her head like algebra does on the last day of school, as his lips touched her. She'd always expected nothing more from kisses than a symbolic meaning. Like to confess your love. Or to show how much you care. She'd never expected, despite all the romance novels she had read, that the kiss would be this _unexpectedly delicious._

And it was. Very, very, very, very, very, delicious. It was like hot fudge sundaes and a hot shower after a grueling day all at once. Plus, the burning sensation in the pit of her stomach felt rather nice, too, in a weird way.

Breaking away- the bugger, he wasn't even out of breath (she would have to discuss this with him later. Either he had unnaturally large lungs, or he had been doing a lot of kissing lately)- he looked calmly at her. Apparently he felt no need to explain why he was looking at her, or say anything.

"What," she demanded, albeit a little rudely.

Ignoring her brusque voice he said, "You know, Sybil," shivers traveled down her spine, as they did every single time he said her name. "I read in a book once, that Capricorn and Libra were soul mates."

A/N: Mua ha ha. Well- whoever's still reading this story, (Hello- knock knock! Anybody there? Helloooooo) first of all, sorry for the hiatus, and second of all, how'd you like the latest installment? We've given you guys a break from the obscure and sickening couples, but we can't let you turn into wimps! So ladies and gentlemen, prepare your barfbags! Mua ha ha. . . .

I don't think all the horoscope information is right. But at least the thing about Capricorn and Libra is. Courtesy CosmoGirl magazine though, so how reliable can those airheads be? But the point is- LEAVE A REVIEW!


	9. Draco & Ginny Kerichi

Disclaimer: No rights to the characters, but once given an inch of permission to write a story, I'll gladly go that extra mile! No clue who to credit with the 'soonest done' homily, but Ben Franklin said the adage about time, and Diana Krall is the singer of _Let's Face the Music and Dance_.

A/N: I know, I know, this is KERICHI'S chap, but I have to add just a tiny THREAT in here before you read this chap. Kerichi has been a bit. . loony lately about the apparent LACK of REVIEWS! So if you do not review, I will cut your head off, then maim you, AND THEN SEND LOONY KERICHI AFTER YOU! SO REVIEW!

* * *

Face Fear: Are you afraid of the dark?

Draco and Ginny

Black robes rippling with the force of his angry strides, Draco Malfoy ignored the hopeful glances silly girls threw his way while he swept through the corridors toward the dungeons. Platinum strands obscured storm cloud grey eyes glaring a warning to anyone who tried to greet him. A slight sneer curled his mouth. The sixth-year Prefect was thoroughly put out. He'd had plans for tonight, and now they were ruined. Potty and Weasel _had_ to keep mentioning his father in Potions, which resulted in him using the Flipendo charm to overturn their cauldrons. Snape, irritated by having to clean the foul slime that had seeped across the stone floor, had given the Slytherin detention. _Detention!_

Seething over the injustice, and frustrated as hell, the usually sartorially perfect teen reached up to yank open his robes before tugging his tie down. Raking agitated fingers through his hair, the classically handsome boy turned on his heel and faced the hulking youths who had doggedly followed his every step,

"Crabbe, Goyle, do _you_ have detention?"

Exchanging baffled looks, the two gazed at him silently before Crabbe ventured,

"Uh…No?"

"No…so stop following me and go do something useful!"

Again, his henchmen's gazes flickered sideways in an unspoken question neither could answer. Forehead deeply creased in painful thought, Goyle asked hesitantly,

"What's useful?"

Closing his eyes and counting to ten, twice, Malfoy exhaled and explained curtly,

"Helpful, practical…of use…You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"

Crabbe elbowed his crony and nodded,

"I know, it just took awhile to think of something. Would shining your shoes be useful?"

"I expect it would."

"I could make sure your quills are sharpened and your ink bottles full."

"All right, whatever- grab yourselves a butterbeer from my private stock once you're done." Rolling his eyes when the pair continued to stand and smile goofily at the prospect of a reward for their efforts, Draco ordered,

"Go…goodbye"

"Goodbye boss…I mean Malfoy."

Pale eyes narrowed at the reminder that the boys had started thinking of themselves as 'wise guys'. If they bought matching pin striped suits and sunglasses, he was hexing them. Stomping down to the dungeon level, the Slytherin entered Professor Snape's classroom. The Potions Master was sitting at his desk, pushing a row of pencils into alignment with the tip of a finger. Without looking up from the absorbing task, the man drawled,

"You're late, Mr. Malfoy. If your partner wasn't even tardier, I would have to add another night of detention."

Before he could ask the name of the unfortunate soul who would share his grim fate, a voice sounded from the doorway,

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier, professor, I was tutoring another student and lost track of time."

"What student, on which subject?"

Smiling embarrassedly, the newcomer admitted,

"Neville Longbottom, Sir…on potions…"

Standing, Snape looked down his long nose at the redheaded girl, "At least your endeavors _here _will be productive, Ms. Weasley." Gesturing to the storeroom entrance on the wall behind him, the teacher instructed, "I want a list of all the stores that need replacement or augmentation." In a voice that implied that they'd better do the exact opposite, the older wizard stated, "If I am needed, you will find me in Professor Lorelei's office…grading papers…"

When Snape had swooped out of the classroom, the girl turned soft brown eyes on the boy who was looking at her incredulously. He asked,

"How?"

Her pretty face lit up with mischief,

"I added salamander bile instead of salamander wool."

A boyish smile transformed Draco's face from sulky to strikingly handsome. He reached out and traced the sprinkle of cinnamon colored freckles from one delicate cheek to the other,

"Thereby making anything you dipped into your solution burst into flames instead of becoming inflammable…earning detention… I'm impressed, Gryffindor…"

Slipping slender arms around his waist, her eyes sparkled,

"Some of your Slytherin cunning must've rubbed off on me."

His mouth lowered to the one lifting temptingly toward his. Teasingly, he barely touched his lips to hers, brushing softly, back and forth, over and over before whispering,

"Like this?"

Throwing her arms around his neck, Ginny kissed the maddening boy until her bones started to melt and her knees began to buckle. Draco sat on a nearby stool and drew her onto his lap. After allowing her fingers to sink into that gorgeous silky hair while gliding her tongue against his, she pulled back for a moment to smirk,

"Like that"

Her boyfriend's chuckle was worth all the effort she'd gone through to be in his arms. They'd planned on meeting in the Room of Requirement after dinner. Malfoy had promised an evening of dancing in a club in Paris with a view of the Eiffel Tower and cherry blossoms perfuming the spring air. She'd looked forward to it all day. Every time she'd see him in the corridors, their eyes would meet and an exhilarating awareness would arc between them. Ginny had wanted to dance with him so much. Since it hadn't worked out, she'd make do with spending time together…even if it was in detention.

Several kisses later, the pair prudently put a work table between them and the temptation to spend the whole time snogging. Tucking a lock of fiery hair behind her ear, the girl resisted taking Draco up on his offer to nibble on the exposed appendage and said one of Molly Weasley's sayings in the exact tone her mother had employed numerous times,

"Soonest begun's soonest done"

A white-blond eyebrow winged upwards. Tossing her hair back and flouncing toward the storeroom, Ginny added another maxim for good measure,

"You may delay, but time will not."

Standing with hands on her hips in the cluttered space, she wondered how in Merlin's name they were going to determine everything that needed re-stocking. Some of the jars held items that she couldn't even name, much less tell if there was an appropriate amount contained within. Masculine arms wrapped around her. Resting his chin on her shoulder, Malfoy asked with a smile in his voice,

"What're you doing Red?"

She relaxed against him,

"Wondering if we've just been given a labor of Hercules…"

His huff of amusement beside her susceptible ear caused happy shivers. He drawled,

"I bet old Herc' had an ace up his sleeve too." Without turning, he directed, "Slinky, come in here."

"Young master is ready now?" The house elf's tennis ball shaped eyes rapidly scanned the shelves while an enchanted quill scratched a list onto a parchment floating in mid-air nearby. After a few minutes, the list was compiled…in a perfect copy of Draco's bold handwriting. Ginny smiled when the elf accepted the boy's thanks with a floor scraping bow and a reverent,

"No young sir, thank _you_, for being so…_Slytherin…_"

After Slinky had returned via the classroom fireplace to the kitchens, she looked into silvery eyes and asked,

"Should we stay here or…?"

Malfoy, standing beside the door he'd just cracked open, placed a finger to his lips. Silently, the girl crept over and pressed against his side, trying to hear.

"Should you really leave them unsupervised while we pop up to the seventh floor?"

"I assure you the task assigned will not be completed for another couple of hours, at the earliest, and that no Slytherin would come looking for another one should they finish beforehand."

Brown eyes met grey, widening with realization. Lorelei and Snape were sneaking off to the Room of Requirement! Ginny didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed. _She'd_ wanted to use the room. Pressing against the wall alongside Draco in order not to be seen when the couple passed by, she almost gasped to hear Snape utter,

"I suppose I'll have to wear that bloody mask again to enact another _Phantom of the Opera_ fantasy."

The listening students shared a grimacing look while the professors' voices drifted away.

"Well, that does put a damper on my plans…not to mention the mood…but where there's a will…" Malfoy thought for a moment then shrugged and strode over to the fireplace, commanding, "Slinky!"

"You called, young master?"

Beckoning imperiously, the blond leaned down to softly dictate his instructions. Ginny watched Draco's face, marveling at how unguarded he was around her, allowing every emotion from irritation to elation to play across his features. She wondered what he had in mind and looked forward to finding out.

Leading Ginny toward Dungeon 7, the Slytherin boy couldn't keep his lips from turning upwards. His idea was brilliant, if he did say so himself, and his girl was going to be wowed.

Standing in the doorway of the previously empty classroom, the Gryffindor girl took in an awed breath and forgot to exhale, she was so entranced. Slinky had used illusion charms to project a three hundred and sixty degree view of Paris at night. The city lights twinkled 'below' while the Eiffel Tower was lit up like something from a fairy tale. On a table in the center of the room, a table for two was softly illumined by enchanted candles floating overhead. Looking down at her second best school robes, she said ruefully,

"I think I'm under-dressed."

Draco smiled, "Your beauty shines so bright, we don't need candles." He took her hand in his and brought them into tango position. Slinky, who had just entered the room, heard the conviction in his voice without considering the context of the words and nodded,

"If you is wishing so, then I makes it so."

The candles blew out. The chamber became wreathed in darkest shadow. Blond hair barely visible in the dim light reflected from the Parisian cityscape around them, Malfoy clutched his girlfriend tight and assured,

"It…its okay…we're not really trapped in the dark…nothing will harm you…I'm here for you…"

The brave words were belied by a note of panic. Ginny's smile could be heard in her voice when she replied,

"I'm not scared of the dark, I know you'll protect me and…" She laughed embarrassedly before confessing, "I think it's romantic…being held in your arms…dancing in the dark…"

Loosening his tight grip, Draco relaxed. He wasn't a child frightened by his father's stories of unworthy boys receiving a Dementor's 'kiss' one dark night. He was seventeen years old, and the girl he loved wanted to dance with him in the dark. Pulling her flush against him, he led her in a rock-step, rock-step turn while the orb the elf had spun before backing away played,

**There may be trouble ahead**

**But while there's music and moonlight and love and romance**

**Let's face the music and dance**

Swaying sensuously, feet barely leaving the floor, Ginny smiled to hear the song that had played that magical night when they'd told each other…

"I love you."

Raising up on tiptoe, she whispered back before kissing Draco with all the love in her heart,

"I love you too."


	10. Sprout & Gimli Funnykido

Sprout & Gimli

A/N: Hellooo. . . anybody out there? Does anybody remember me? I can explain, before you get out the pitchforks! (If there's even anybody out there to WIELD pitchforks). Ok, but my computer's been down with a virus, and unfair overbearing parents then grounded me from the computer, because they seem to think it was my fault. whistles innocently Yes, but IM BAAACK! And. . . I'm hoping that loony Kerichi doesn't come and get me for failing to email her and tell her what was going on. . . cowers But . . . on to the story! And pleeeeeease I BEG YOU, REVIEW!

She was _pissed off._

Professor Sprout stalked into Greenhouse 8, leaving muddy footprints in her wake and pots trembling as she walked past. How _dare_ Herbert go running off into the sunset with that hook-nosed hussy, leaving her behind in the dust! In fact, she was willing to be that that poor misguided girl didn't even know his real age! If she knew he was really 48- or was it 49?- she had a feeling the blonde bimbo wouldn't be sticking around.

Now before you get your knickers in a snarl, let me tell you, it wasn't true love. Yes, I had agreed to marry the scumbag, but I didn't love him. Can you blame me? At 37, with all her siblings married and with kids of their own, and her parents having given up their subtle hints like, 'Oh look, a singles bar! I hear they have wonderful Jazz! Don't you like jazz, snookums?', long ago, she had been a bit- to say it frankly- desperate. And at 37, you didn't have the time to wait around for your Prince Charming. You took whatever two-legged, cleanly shaved, decent man you could get. Besides, you had faced reality, well, except for that little part of you, in your heart of hearts, where you foolishly kept alive the small flame of hope that waited for your prince charming. But that's not the point. The point is- What man would want a frumpy old _gardener_ anyway?

She slammed down the closest pot, uttering a string of curses she had heard from an inattentive sixth year who'd had a nasty encounter with the snapping perennials, when it broke. She picked up one of the bulbs lying close to her side and shoved it into a new pot, packing the soil viscously on top of it before she remembered the holes that needed to be present in the soil in order to provide enough oxygen for the plant. She threw her hands up in the air and uttered a muffled scream of frustration through her teeth.

Gardening usually helped her calm down, but it obviously wasn't working tonight. She shoved her cloak on, fastening it roughly, and went out the door, snapping the door shut behind her. She barreled down the path towards Hogsmeade and solace. A warm butterbeer and a nice long talk with Rosmerta was exactly what she needed.

She sighed in relief as the bright lights of the Three Broomsticks found their way to her eyes, and she took a large whiff of the familiar smells as she walked through the doorway, her anger quickly disappearing.

Heaving herself gratefully down onto a stool in the middle of the bar she raised her hand in a signal to Rosmerta. Their friendship being well worn over the years, the ample bar-witch only had to take a swift glance at the professor to know exactly what to get her. A pint of butterbeer with a generous helping of vanilla icecream. And one musn't forget the cherry on top, either.

Sprout pounced on the drink as soon as it was put down in front of her, heaving a long exhale.

She put the pint back down, now half drained, and looked around her surroundings. She moved her head to the left and came eye to eye with a pair of dark, penetrating black pupils.

"Fancy seeing you here," the stocky man said. The stocky man was none other than Gimli, Head of the Hogsmeade Garden Club, and her worthiest opponent in all things plants. Their _debates_, tended to get a bit out of hand, and their last one had ended with Gimli throwing a handful of soil in her face, which earned him a tidy little right hook from herself. She noticed with satisfaction that his nose was still slightly blue on the left side.

"Bugger off Gimli, I'm not in the mood for your dwarfish charm," she snarled back.

"So you admit I charmed you then, do you? Never met a witch- or wizard for that matter- who could resist The Charm," he chuckled merrily.

"I'm foregoing that last comment of yours for the sake of my sanity," the witch replied dryly. "But how did you assume that _I_ was charmed by _you_?"

"You classified my actions as 'Dwarfish charm', therefore meaning you recognized them, at least subconsciously, as such. So recognizing them, even subconsciously, means that you had to have realized that I was charming you, meaning that you would have felt that I had charmed you. In short, you were charmed."

The witch snorted into her drink.

"Think whatever you want, dwarfy," she replied.

He chose not to comment upon her new nickname for him, and so they sat in silence for a few minutes. Not companionable, or even an easy silence, but a silence that made her wonder if she should perhaps try to start a conversation. She pondered this as she drank.

She didn't have long to wait. His offhand comment of, "Have you heard, Warblehead Waste was named by 'Magical Gardening Maladies' as the Fertilizer of the year," had her blood boiling in anger, or so she told herself, and they were off and running. Except something had changed. Indescribably and inadvertently, but it had changed. And instead of fistfuls of dirt and right hooks, their spar ended in laughter and bright cheeks, under the white flag of truce. For now.

They fell back into silence once again, and Sprout glanced up at Rosmerta. She saw her gazing back at her, a small smile on her face, and then saw her eyes flicker towards Gimli, winking as she did so. She buried her face in her drink, took a long sip, and heard the straw at the bottom. Consequently realizing the goblet was empty.

"Buy you a drink," the little man next to her offered.

She had a revelation. A somewhat horrifying, if exhilarating one. She was not angry as she had been the last time he had offered, and the time before that, and the time before that. It couldn't- it wasn't- possible that she actually _wanted_ him to buy her a drink. . . was it?

She was not one for self-denial, so she admitted it to herself that she was not objected to this course of action. But nonetheless she had her duties, and so answered with an apologetic smile on her face, "Sorry, can't. Time for me to get back to the school."

And with that she stepped off the stool, grabbed her cloak, and walked out into the blustery night.

The next few days found Professor Sprout in a blizzard- literally- of before-winter examinations. There were the seventh year's papers to grade, the first years to clean up after, and the fifth years (who were already starting to get on her nerves with their paranoia about their owls) to tutor. Didn't these damnable fool students know that no matter how hard you worked, no matter how many OWLS or NEWTS you got, no matter what job you managed to snag, you were still _over-worked_, _unappreciated_, and _under-paid_?

It wasn't until her last student left Friday night that she had a brain cell to spare over the disagreeable topic of her despicable ex, or the much more agreeable topic (to her chagrin. . . or wait. . . maybe not. . . but to her surprise definitely) of Gimli.

She cast a gaze that would make Superman and his wimpy X-Ray vision back away in shame at the pile of papers waiting to be graded. Unconsciously lifting her chin defiantly in the direction of the said papers, she swung her cloak down from its hook and jauntily walked out of the door.

"I'm telling you, dragon dung is the only fertilizer you need! It's ability to retain moisture and nutrients is _unsurpassed_!"

"Woman!" Exclaimed Gimli, throwing his hands up in the air and motioning for another shot. "All you can think of is moisture and nutrients and _nurturing_! Ach! You make my head ache!"

"Don't I feel special. And here I thought it was just me that got to make you loony."

He groaned and ran a hand across his eyes, but denied comment. "It's the Warblebeard waste you want! It has the fastest results!"

"The fastest results don't necessarily mean the best! Haven't you ever heard the saying _Quality over quanity_? Dragon Dung's the one that'll get you the best plants!"

"Well maybe people aren't looking for quality! Maybe they're looking for a quick fix!"

"Who is the 'people' you're talking about? Men?"

"Yes! No! Men! _People_!" He threw his hands around wildly.

"Oh, of course. All men ever want is a _quick fix_. One day you'll _plant_ the bloody thing, the next day you _fertilize_ it, and for a while you have your bloody _quick fix_! But then suddenly one day it will wither and die in the snap of a finger. And then when that happens you'll be wishing you _had_ gone for the dragon dung. You're going to wish you _had_ taken the time and nurtured the plant, given it life and _taken the time_ to _care _instead of running off with the first fertilizer 'Guaranteed the fastest results' in a flashy bag!"

Here she paused, breathing heavily. She poured the rest of what was left in her glass down her throat, then sat down unabashedly on the stool and gestured for another firewhiskey.

"Why do I get the feeling we're not talking about fertilizer anymore?" She heard from beside her.

The professor looked sharply at him but merely said loftily, "Trying to sidetrack the conversation are we? Because you know I'm right?" She ignored the fact that her voice seemed a bit deeper than usual, which tended to happen whenever she was nervous.

He shook his head, laughing softly, letting the subject drop though he continued to look at her strangely.

"I'll make you a deal," she said, for some reason not wanting their. . . debate. . . to end. "I've got two plants in the greenhouse back at the school. One was planted using Dragondung and the other with Warblehead waste. You can come and see them, and we''ll be able to find out once and for all which is better."

"And how do I know you haven't tampered with them?" He asked.

"They're my students, plus I haven't even been in that specific greenhouse for over a week."

"Well then, lead the way pretty-lady," he drawled in a pathetically Un-Cowboyish drawl.

She looked at him quickly over her shoulder, chinks slightly pink, though he couldn't tell if it was from the fire or his compliment. The door banged open in front of her and he stepped out of the building in her wake, watching as she pulled her cloak tighter around her form to ward off the snowflakes, giving him a bit of a, _ahem_, view.. He sent a quick prayer up to Merlin for cold weather.

The pair walked into the greenhouse, shivering and sniffling. The air in the greenhouse was unnaturally warm, due to the heating charm necessary for plant growth in the winter, so they took their cloaks off and cast them on a table nearby.

"Where are the plants," Gimli asked, looking around with intererst.

"Over in the corner," she replied as she swatted his hand away just before he touched one of the plants. "The students' plants are off-limits."

"Only the students?" He asked, winking at her. He stepped closer to her and rested his hand lightly on her cheek. "What _isn't_ off limits, may I ask?"

"Maybe you should be more specific in what you are asking for access to, and I might be able to answer your question," she shot back, but didn't move.

"Your ruining the moment," he said jovially. "But I'll play along. What I ask for is access to a kiss, possibly, if this goes well, a relationship. And if this goes well, perhaps a longer _engagement_?"

"Are you asking me to marry you," she exclaimed incredulously.

"No, simply saying that if it goes well, we may consider the option. Now, do I have access?"

The torches flickered and went out.

The witch looked around wildly, and clutched both of Gimli's arms in her hands.

"Afraid of the dark," he commented nonchalantly.

She shot him an irritated look. Then she said quickly, "Access granted," and crashed his lips to hers.

Basking in the light of the warm fire emanating from the crisping herbs in the corner as well as . . . lover-ship, she now realized that his eyes were brown instead of black. And warm and benevolent instead of dark and penetrating.

This close, she could even see the stubble on his chin. She always _had_ had a thing for rugged guys. It had bothered her to no end that her _ex_ was always cleanly shaved and a bit too smooth for her liking. She liked her men big and dirty.

Just then she felt a strange sensation in her stomach. Could it be? No, there was no way- _Damnit! _She _was _getting the warm, fuzzy feeling inside!

A/N: Yes, I know, I know, 'access granted' was a bit James Bond-esque, but I liked it so deal w/ it. AND REVIEW!


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